


Wounds

by Azalea_Scroggs



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate ROTJ ending, Angst, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Han being supportive, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Leia and Vader's Complicated Relationship, Leia has a lot to deal with, Literally nothing but that, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Skywalker Family Drama, Tearjerker, Tissue Warning, Trauma, lots and lots of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11421954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalea_Scroggs/pseuds/Azalea_Scroggs
Summary: The Battle of Endor was a complete victory for the Rebels: the Second Death Star was destroyed, the Emperor died, the Empire fell in tatters, and Darth Vader surrendered himself to the Alliance as a prisoner and informant. But Luke didn't come back from his last mission to save his father. The young Jedi's death and the revelation of her terrible legacy force Leia to wage a last battle, far more intimate and painful, against her own wounds.





	1. Nun will die Sonn' so hell aufgehn

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Kindertotenlieder](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/305220) by Gustav Mahler and Friedrich Rückert. 



> This is not a new work, but something I posted on fanfiction.net a long time ago (but in this galaxy). I have long hesitated to post this old, depressing, pretentious and pointless thing on here as well... also, I realise writing romance is really not my forte... I hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> The texts on top of the chapters are translations of five of the heartbreaking _Kindertotenlieder_ ('Songs for the death of children' in English) by Friedrich Rückert, that were set by Mahler in his song cycle of the same title, whose music strongly inspired this fic.

__

_Now the sun will rise as brightly_  
_As though no misfortune had occurred in the night._  
_The misfortune happened to me only._  
_The sun, it shines on everyone._

_You must not enfold the night in you,_  
_You must sink it in eternal light._  
_A little star went out in my home!_  
_Greetings to the joyful light of the world._

The fire was rumbling and crackling. While twilight's shadows were lengthening on the clearing, ineluctable night spreading its mantle on the world, its flames alone continued to pour their warm light on the many faces turned in their direction. The clarity of its restless arms was reaching out beyond the boughs towards the stars, as though recognising even from that distance a brightness akin to them, and the smoke that ascended to the sky seemed to carry a message higher than the crown of the trees.

The fire was rumbling and crackling, and she stood motionless before it, mesmerised by its fascinating dance. Her red and haggard eyes were following the blaze's elusive movement, never leaving it, she was burning her retinas without even caring: in that moment, to her, nothing else existed than this inferno. She no longer felt the arm passed around her waist, nor the stable presence supporting her and keeping her anchored in this world. She no longer knew anything of pain, nor grief, nor the awful sensation of being torn from a part of oneself. There was nothing left but this gaping, raging beauty, this forgetful illusion on which her distant gaze was set. Sometimes a shape appeared, a dark silhouette emerging then vanishing just as soon, the fleeting echo of a fallen young man.

They hadn't left anything of him. Some clothes, a weapon, a prosthesis, was all that had been brought back to them. This pyre burning for him wasn't what had consumed him.

Horror in turn had become dull, stunned by the grumbling of wood slowly changing into ashes. A part of herself was relieved to see that the thick shell she'd build to protect herself from the blows of war remained strong despite this new ordeal.

Her gaze rose to meet a pair of hazel eyes full of distress and worry, a question obvious in their bright pupils. She gave him a mechanical smile that was meant to be reassuring, then she looked away, unable to sustain the emotion she read in him. The hold on her hand strengthened, and she felt a kiss be laid on the top of her head, as she did her best to control the flow of memories restlessly assaulting her.

She remembered the brief and intimate conversation she'd had with the young Jedi two days ago, and that felt more like two centuries before. It was the last time she'd seen him. Less than the words, she recalled the solemnity and the urgency that had coloured the moment, the determination she'd read on his face, her own desperate helplessness to hold him back. There had been so many things to say, so little time to say them. His revelations had overwhelmed her, she'd had a thousand questions, a thousand thoughts, but before she could share them with him, he had left, never to come back, their hands slipping apart for the last time.

Like a shooting star, he had vanished into the night, after a short, intense burst of brightness.

She closed her eyes and let out a shivering sigh. His name was burning on her lips, but she didn't dare utter it, frightened by the harrowing hope she held despite all reason to hear him answer her. Other pieces of him came back to her memory, as if to hide the reality of his absence, and for a moment she yielded to that tempting illusion, to those sweet lies murmuring to her he wasn't really gone. Since the day he'd burst into her dark Imperial cell without a thought, he'd been a constant in her life, a light in the shadows of grief that had never ceased to pursue her. How she'd cherished that fiery optimism, she whose hope had been blown apart with her homeworld, that freedom of dream that despite all losses, despite all trials, had never left him. He'd been so brimming with life that she'd never fathomed he could, at any moment, exit her existence as suddenly as he'd entered it.

Despite her anguish, she managed to marvel at the new meaning she was discovering in those memories, now that she knew the true nature of their relationship. She wished she could talk of this with him, see her brother's features light up in the grin she knew so well, as they'd recall their numerous instants of confusion... They'd been so clumsy, in their ignorance. She wanted to listen to another of the silly jokes he sometimes made, to hear his laugh rise again at the mention of all they had experienced together...

She missed that laugh, maybe more than anything else. Now that she thought about it, she realised it hadn't sounded for months, or only as the ghost of what it had been, as though muffled by a yoke too heavy for its bearer. And she finally understood, too late, the weight that had seemed to settle on his shoulders, these demons she'd seen him struggle with, powerless, since the sinister day Lando, Chewie and she had found him, battered and bloodied, desperately clinging to a vane beneath a city in the clouds.

If only she'd understood at that moment, if only she'd seen through her own worries and crossed his shields in order to carry his secret with him! Perhaps, had she been able to talk to him, she could have helped him accept the truth without resorting to the illusion he'd clung to, and which had lost him... But even as she imagined what could have been, she knew within herself that none of that would have changed anything, and that all those stories she was telling herself were but a defence mechanism, one more way to escape the truth.

Comparing the enthusiastic young pilot carrying the stars in his eyes with the tormented young Jedi she'd watched him become, she caught herself wondering if maybe the black monster who had taken Luke away from her hadn't done it far before she knew it.

The fire was rumbling and crackling, and she watched it slowly diminish, feeling part of herself die out with it.

It was but far later, when only ashes remained and the embers had slightly cooled off, that she came around, and that her consciousness returned fully. Night was well under way. The pilots, Lando, Chewbacca, and the few other Alliance members who had known Luke well enough to wish to attend his funeral were all long gone. She was the only one left, together with Han, who was still holding her.

As though waking from a dream, Leia raised her head and crossed his gaze. Han flashed her a wan smile that didn't reach his eyes, and pressed her hand. “Time to leave, don't you think?”

She nodded, too exhausted to speak. A huge rush of gratitude overwhelmed her, as she realised he was there, he'd stayed with her all this time, nearly more to support her than to himself mourn their friend, and he wouldn't leave her alone again. Without releasing his hand, she took him with her out of the clearing, turning away from the pyre.

They had only made a few steps when a group of people passed them by, as quiet as their number allowed them to be. In the night, only their shadows could be seen, a movement barely visible in the obscurity. Leia shuddered, suddenly gripped by a cold that had nothing to do with the woods' temperature.

“Leia?” inquired Han, worried.

Without answering him, Leia retraced her steps to follow the intruders, blaster in hand. An irrational impulse had taken hold of her, like a bad feeling: she had to know what they were doing here. The smuggler too had drawn his weapon, and was watching her back without a sound.

As she had feared, they were headed to the clearing where the young Jedi's remnants were laid to rest. The starlight was shining enough on them, now, for her to clearly distinguish their forms. She gasped.

They were six. Five of them, weapon in hand and clothed in the Alliance uniform, were carefully watching the last man, whose shape standing out black on black against the sky was enough to give Leia shivers. Tall and menacing, enshrouded in a wide cape, the figure, in the night, seemed unearthly, come right out of her worse nightmares. The angular mask covering his face bestowed a terrifying aura upon him, and the mechanical thunder working as his breath was resounding violently, tearing apart the silence of the woods.

Only their men's presence, and the knowledge that he was their prisoner, prevented the outraged woman from firing. What was he doing here? Hadn't he brought the young man lying there enough misery when he was alive, must he also torment him in death? Did he come to behold his victory, to trample the last Jedi's final resting place, to humiliate him once more for his triumph to seem complete? She couldn't understand how Mon Mothma had allowed this – for she alone could have delivered such an authorisation.

She never took her gaze from him, tight as a bow string, as Vader stood motionless in front of the pyre's blackened residues, contemplative, at the precise spot where herself had watched it burn for hours. His hands were held together before him, his head tilted down, in a posture that reminded her a little of Luke, although she couldn't pinpoint why.

He moved again, and Leia noticed the reflexive gesture of a young soldier who'd raised his blaster towards him, before one of his elders' hand setting on his arm reassured him that the alarm wasn't necessary. Indeed, the giant had but knelt, his movement slow and careful, and reached out towards the extinguished fire. He was only using his left hand: where the right one should have been, nothing but wires came out of his forearm, and it was uselessly falling at his side. In a gesture that betrayed his hesitation, he softly brushed the ground, and this unexpected behaviour surprised Leia. She watched him as he delicately touched the ashes, took them then let them fall from his fingers, uncaring about their temperature. _How dare you,_ she wanted to yell without daring do so, _how can you be so bold as to desecrate this place, to defile his memory so, you who persecuted, hunted and murdered him..._

Suddenly, Vader lowered his head. His ashes-stained fist was clenched in a gesture of powerless rage, the intensity of which the young woman had never seen before. She watched him, bemused, as he collapsed on himself, his shoulders hunched, his back bent as though a great weight had tumbled on him all at once. Unmoving, huddled close to the floor, his mask was nearly touching the right knee he hadn't put to the ground, the back of his helmet glistening in the weak light.

Han tore her from her contemplation. “Come,” he whispered, before taking her behind him to the shuttle. 

She followed him without a word, stealing a last glance to the motionless creature still crouched next to the remnants of the extinguished pyre.


	2. Nun seh' ich wohl, warum so dunkle Flammen

__

_Now I see well, why with such dark flames_  
_In many glances you sparkled towards me_  
_O eyes, as though in one look_  
_You would draw your whole power together._

_Yet I didn't suspect, surrounded as I was by a mist_  
_Woven by blinding destiny_  
_That this beam was already returning homewards_  
_There, from where all rays emanate._

_You would tell me with your brightness:_  
_We would much rather stay with you!_  
_But that is denied to us by Fate._

_Just look at us, then soon we will be far away!_  
_What are still eyes to you these days,_  
_in the coming nights shall only be your stars._

__  


“Hello, Your Highness!”

Princess Leia lifted her head from her datapad, and addressed a smile to the soldier who had greeted her so. However, she didn't have the time to answer him before he was gone, taken in the flow of agitation surrounding them.

The deck of the command ship Home One was in uproar. Orders were shouted above the racket of steps hammering on the ground, snippets of conversation and reports were resounding all around, as all were preparing for a next assault. From time to time, a bout of laughter rose, a peculiar but welcome sound in this tense, busy atmosphere. War was far from over, but the victories just won had lightened the hearts of this dissident army, too often afflicted by the cruelties of fight and the hardships of outlawed life.

It was there, in the middle of this bubbling activity, that Leia had settled to work. She usually would have deemed the calm of her quarters more suitable for concentration, but the perpetual movement around her, right now, was offering a much too needed appeasement. The high and happy morale of their troops was contagious, and looking at them allowed her to imitate the smile she was seeing on all lips, drowning her worries in the optimism the ship was steeped in.

After observing the whirling of uniforms before her for a while, she inclined her head again to resume her reading. In her small movement, the comfortable poncho of rough wool she was wearing, an item she'd found among her brother's things and kept for herself, let escape some notes of the smell it was still holding, and she shortly closed her eyes, taken away by the memories this odour was bringing back.

_I can't believe he's gone.  
There was nothing you could have done._

Automatically, her fingers went under it to her belt, and brushed the cylindrical weapon that was hooked there. She had absolutely no use of Luke's lightsabre, but she couldn't bear to have it stored anywhere else, much less thrown away, so she kept it on herself at all times, as a remembrance. She knew he'd build it himself, after many days and nights of fumbling research, finally replacing his father's weapon with his own.

It held even more meaning, knowing who that father truly was.

She interrupted her train of thoughts like one avoids to touch a recent burn, and reported her attention on the reports she was studying.

Finally, after years of fighting with few resources, they could afford to confront Imperial armies directly. Since the Emperor's death, the regime was crumbling in internal conflicts while the Rebellion was increasing in power, so that more and more systems felt the wind turn and joined the newly baptised Alliance of Free Planets, even in the Core worlds. Never had they won so many victories : most of the tales Leia was looking through related their enemies' debacle in a triumphant tone.

And yet, she didn't like this situation much. Such a sudden turnaround didn't seem natural to her: one single man's demise, as powerful as he was, wasn't enough to justify it entirely. There had to be something behind it, something none of them was able to see.

Distracted, she turned off her datapad and rose, stopping in front of the deck viewport, captivated by the view. Her gaze lost itself beyond the hard transparisteel, amongst the countless dots of light shining in ice-cold space, easily falling in the contemplation of infinity. Before her, gas clouds and stardust from the Kaliida Nebula were forming a fascinating sight, and she let herself be hypnotized by it.

She did her best not to imagine another presence slip in next to her and put an arm around her wordlessly, not to think of those moments spent in silence, watching space close to each other, her head on his shoulder, their breaths matching, offering a comfort both of them had cruelly needed. Instead, she focused on current matters.

What had her most worried, in truth, was the origin of this fortune reversal, the voluntary prisoner who was granting them the tools for the successes their crusades were encountering.

The rest of High Command had nearly unanimously decided to trust Vader. This trust had indeed been tempered with words such as verification mechanisms and safety checks, but in actuality, that was what they had decided to do. A decision Leia still struggled to understand.

She had to admit the formidable warrior's most recent actions were deeply disconcerting. After the destruction of the second Death Star at Endor, he had plunged all hearts in consternation by appearing at the small native village where the survivors were celebrating their victory. She still perfectly remembered the silence that had dawned on the forest then, only troubled by the sinister noise of a mechanical breath, songs and laughter smothered by the horror of fighters forced to take up arms again after the battle. But the Dark Lord of the Sith hadn't attacked. He had merely advanced in the middle of the assembly, and announced, in his cold powerful voice, the death of the Emperor and his own surrender.

However, even though the man had done nothing but collaborate since then, even though he'd offered with admirable consistency material and tactical intelligence of irreproachable precision, Leia was not convinced of his sincerity. Palpatine himself had demonstrated his penchant for secret and deception during the decade in which he'd played the Republic to orchestrate its fall, and Vader had been his agent, his second-in-command. She couldn't help thinking that all this goodwill was hiding a darker design, a more elaborate plan to wipe them out quickly. Different storylines were playing out in her head, merciless and cruel.

Certainly such a despicable soul could have nothing but betrayal in mind.

Sighing, she tore herself from both the sight of space and her dark thoughts. Speculation was of no use. She had to find proof of what she asserted, but she remained empty-handed, and could no longer think coherently. She would take a hot shower, though not too long because of water rationing on the ship, then she would go through all the debriefing forms all over again with a clearer head. Perhaps then would she finally find a sign showing her where to dig in order to discover Vader's treachery.

Her datapad in hand, she headed towards her quarters, suddenly unable to focus on anything else than the precious few minutes of rest she'd envisioned.

As she was getting past the hangars, the sight of a familiar figure greeting her, clad in the pilots' orange flight suit, his helmet under his arm, made her stop.

“Commander Antilles,” she said, tilting her head in direction of the pilot, who responded in kind. “Taking the Rogues out for training, I suppose?”

“Yes, can't rest on our laurels if we wanna stay on top, now can we?” Wedge said with a mischievous smile, quickly vanished. “Especially with the recent changes in the squad.“

She nodded, suddenly feeling a great inclination to excuse herself from the pilot's presence and move away. However, he spoke again before she could act.

“I never had the chance to tell you before, but all my thoughts are with you, ma'am,” he said tentatively. “Luke – was a great commander, and a good friend.”

Leia's heart missed a beat.

“Thank you, Wedge,” she answered, hoping to stop the conversation there. “I appreciate it.”

“Evenings with the Rogues are much less lively without him,” Wedge went on with a sigh. “Seeing him, nobody would have thought he had what it takes to be a leader – a farmboy fresh out of his desert, with all the quirks and habits of an Outer Rim lad! I admit we didn't take him too seriously at first. But he was quick to learn. When things went awry, he knew how to straighten up the situation, always with humour and cleverness. And he never hesitated to ask for advice if he wasn't sure of something. We'd have followed him anywhere.”

Leia didn't answer. She didn't need to be reminded of all this... The pictures that came back to her memory, of an orange-clad figure like Wedge, carefree, hair ruffled by his helmet, eyes and grin sparkling with enthusiasm, were too painful. She wished the commander would leave her in peace. Finally, he seemed to take the hint.

“I apologise. I have to go, the others are waiting for me. Don't hesitate to find me if you ever need anything. The whole squadron sends you their support.”

She nodded absent-mindedly, her gaze following the pilot as he went away. Through the hangar door, her eyes fell on the X-Wings that were getting ready for departure, sending a unexpected pang in her heart.

Echoes of a strongly accented voice resounded in her ears, full of youth and exuberance.

_I don't know. I was sure he'd change his mind._

As she was coming closer, still staring at the ships, all her thoughts were directed towards that pilot nothing had made happier than flying... He had once told her of his sensations, of the complete freedom he felt in space, the shiver of excitement running through him when he took his little fighter into swirling manoeuvres, with an abandon that sometimes verged on recklessness. Had he known, deep down, that he wouldn't have the chance to do it much longer? Had that unknown power of his whispered to him to enjoy what he possessed as long as he still could?

She softly brushed a machine's shell, nearly expecting him to burst from behind as though nothing had happened, as playful as usual.

Irritated by the useless melancholy that wouldn't leave her alone, she banished those thoughts from her consciousness. More troubling feelings had begun to agitate her mind, visions of dread and suffering, that she violently suppressed.

Those dreams she didn't understand haunted her nights enough as it was, she wouldn't accept their disturbing her days as well.

Her heart heavier than she would admit, she began to walk again. Her pace was quick and purposeless, intent as she was to move away from the pain the encounter of Wedge had revived. She needed a distraction, and even vaguely envisioned finding her protocol droid and listening to his mindless chatter in a desperate try to think of something else, anything else.

Fortunately, she never had to put that dubious plan in motion. A bit further in the ships hangar, an unexpected picture made her smile, and her steps slowed down naturally.

On the roof of a grimy Corellian ship, the captain that was kneeling with a hydrospanner in his hand was far too busy shouting reproof and advice to the Wookiee working in the craft under him to notice her, and for a moment, she entertained herself by secretly watching him. She hadn't learnt he was back ; she'd been so taken in her work she hadn't had time to ask for news of him, and seeing him again filled her with an emotion she couldn't quite define. It was extraordinary, she wondered as her entranced gaze followed each of his movements, the effect one single man could have on her. The mere image of Han Solo evacuating the frustrations caused to him by his precious Falcon was enough to keep her from her all too many dark thoughts.

Finally, the smuggler looked up, and caught sight of her at last. He passed a hand in his hair and flashed her an arrogant smile.

“Hi, Your Worship. Enjoying the view?”

She came closer, her arms folded, a playful light in her eyes.

“I must say I'm impressed to see this piece of junk falling apart even more than it usually does, General.”

The captain swiftly jumped on the ground to embrace her seductively.

“I think you like my ship better than you say,” he whispered against her lips, deliberately playing with the feelings he knew he awakened in her.

As only answer, she kissed him, cutting him off. It had been a long time since they'd last had such a moment together, and she enjoyed it all the more. Now that Han no longer had any bounty on his head, he was free to roam the galaxy as he so wished, and his experience in smuggling and discrete shipping of sensitive goods only made him more useful to the Alliance, which often sent him to pick up supplies and ammunition for them. He'd been gone for the two last weeks, getting them a new arrival of proton torpedoes.

Eventually they broke apart.

“How was the trip?” she asked, their foreheads touching.

“Good. Had a skirmish with pirates on the way back, but nothing too exciting. I managed to get everything at a correct price, and even won some extra.”

Leia lifted her eyebrows.

“Won?”

“Well, the seller was a bit indecisive about the deal, so he kept me hanging around for two nights,” said Han. “A Rodian had a spare hyperdrive to lose, I swept it off.”

She threw him a falsely disapproving look, tempered by the smile that hadn't left her lips. Han's face grew more serious.

“And you, how are you doing?” he asked.

“Everything's fine. The troops' morale is euphoric. It is a welcome change.”

Han fixed his eyes right into hers, with that expression that made her feel as though she could hide nothing from him. 

“That's great, but you, how are you feeling? Is there something wrong, did you have words with High Command again?”

His thumb was stroking her cheek, and she didn't know whether to be annoyed with his stubbornness or just to enjoy the moment. This ability of Han's to break through her shields with nothing but one look, which he thankfully was the only one to possess, always disturbed her greatly, so unusual was the feeling of vulnerability it brought. But she forced herself to swallow back the biting retort she had on the tip of her tongue.

“High Command means to take back Coruscant in the next weeks,” she said in a drier tone that she meant.

Han's eyebrows shot up.

“Already? That's good news, right?”

“It's so early. We barely sustained a few minor defeats since Endor, while mere months ago we were about to be crushed by the Empire... It isn't normal.”

Han looked like he was searching for words during a second.

“Well I don't know. We've got new allies. With all the planets that have joined, I can see why High Command would feel bold. Always said you were all a suicidal band anyway.”

He smirked, but his joke didn't amuse Leia. A spark of anger flashed in her eyes, and she pulled away from him.

“New allies...” she said, her voice like ice. “I would be ready to bet that at least one of them would be all too happy to bring on our ruin.”

Han didn't know what to say.

“Leia...”

“The greatest part of our triumphs have to be attributed to information given to us by Vader, Han! _Darth Vader!_ The rest of High Command are putting their trust in a man whose mission, once, was to destroy us! For years, he hunted down, slaughtered and tortured hundreds of people. And now, on the sole reason that he is showing signs of repentance, we should regard everything he says as reliable, without once wondering if he doesn't have another agenda?”

“Leia, I get it,” Han interrupted her. “I agree with you, alright? I don't like the idea of working with that bastard either. But till now everything he said helped us good, so you gotta use it as long as he doesn't get tired of this little game. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he surrendered to the Rebellion in the first place.”

“Exactly! Why would he do that? It can only be a trap. In truth all the other generals think they have broken Vader, they believe him vanquished, cooperative, and he himself completely looks like it. But I know it cannot be true. This man is invincible. Even the Jedi couldn't bring him down... even...”

Her voice trailed off, and she took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” she said once she'd found her composure. “I didn't mean to lose my temper. Let's talk of something else.”

Without a word, Han pulled her in his arms, and she snuggled against him without any resistance, unable to express how much his presence meant to her, when she had thought for so long she would lose him. He tenderly kissed the top of her head, and she closed her eyes, leaning in his embrace.

“Do the others know, now?” he whispered. “About you and Luke?”

Leia shook her head.

“I can't,” she said with a bitterness that greatly surprised him.

“Why not?”

“Vader already claimed him.”

At those words, he slightly moved away from her to look her in the eye.

“What does that change? I don't get it, what does Vader have to do with any of it? Luke was your brother, wasn't he?”

She watched him for a moment without understanding, then opened her mouth to speak; but right then, a horrifying realisation washed over her like a wave of ice cold water.

He didn't know.

Nobody had told him, and indeed, who could have, alone as she was to know her dreadful secret? She lowered her eyes, her heart suddenly beating faster. It was over, she thought. It had been too good to last... soon she would be on her own, as she had so often feared. For how could Han accept a truth that filled herself with horror, that Vader was her... ?

How she wished she could erase the fatal reality with a single gesture, become once again the princess Leia, adoptive daughter of Bail Organa, when everything was still simple! And yet there was no way back. She could only search for the less painful way to express what she still half refused to believe, and brace herself to see her universe shatter in front of her, once more.

“Vader claimed Luke – as his son,” she eventually said.

Still unable to look at him, she began to think of the numerous plans broached in order to assail Imperial Center, of the precise numbers of each vessel category in their fleet. She saw again the analyses of Coruscant landscapes, calculated the best proportion of ground and space troops, organised diverse strategies. She revised the declarations of allegiance of every system on their side, which of their forces could be used at best to reach the planet. Han's reaction bore no importance next to such a vital assault as they were preparing.

She tried to move away, but he refused to let her go, his face incredulous.

“And they bought it? You did?”

Deep despair overcame Leia. _Don't do this,_ she silently pleaded, _don't make me repeat it._

“Han,” she said, forcing herself to cross his gaze, “it's the truth.”

She looked deeply into his eyes, tried to make him understand, but he only grasped her by the arms.

“C'mon, how'd you know that? He's only trying to trick you!”

“No, he's not, not this once. I know it. Please, Han...”

He released her, turning away, and she could feel exasperated confusion radiating off him. She wondered if this was where he decided he had had too much and took off in the Falcon with Chewie in his wake.

“This is crazy,” he ended up saying.

“It is,” she murmured.

There was a long, intolerable moment of silence, where they did nothing but look at each other. Then Han wrapped his arms around her again, holding her as though never to let her escape.

Stunned, she didn't emit the slightest protest, and buried her face against his chest, enjoying the comfort he was offering as long as it lasted.


	3. Wenn dein Mütterlein

_When your little mother steps in through the door_  
_And I turn my head to look at her,_  
_My gaze does not first fall on her face,_  
_But at the place closer to the doorstep,_  
_There, where your dear face would be,_  
_When you stepped inside, bright with joy,_  
_As usual, my little daughter._

_When your little mother steps in through the door_  
_With the glimmer of a candle,_  
_It seems to me as though you too always came in_  
_In the room, as usual._  
_Oh you, small part of your father,_  
_Ah, light of joy too soon extinguished!_

“There is an hyperspace route that runs through the Deep Core of the Galaxy that we could take. It is an ideal way to take the Empire by surprise.”

A bit further on General Cracken's right, General Veertag, a forty-year-old man with black hair, spoke up to question the Intelligence officer on the idea he just suggested.

“Do we have more information on that route?”

“Vader provided its coordinates. He tells us it was the one General Grievous used to surprise the capital during his attack at the end of the Clone Wars, and that is mentioned in old Separatists records,” Cracken answered. “Despite this, he thinks the Empire does not have access to that knowledge, and the route is not being watched. Most reports we've received on Imperial troops position in the Core tend to corroborate his sayings.”

Leia frowned, little convinced by what she was hearing.

“If I understand well,” she intervened, “we should send most of our fleet on a route that has barely ever been taken, that we hardly even know, in a place where no passage is supposed to exist, for I suppose you remember the Deep Core is reputed impenetrable by hyperspace? And this tremendous risk should be taken in the attack that should put an end to the war. Allow me to express my doubts on the wisdom of this course of action.”

A short silence followed her declaration. The reactions of the other High Command members were varied : some nodded absently, other had rested their chin on their hand in deep thought. Commander-in-Chief Mon Mothma, though, let nothing show of her opinion.

Finally, Admiral Nantz answered.

“It is a risk, Your Highness, I'll grant it to you. But according to me, it is still one of our best options. The area around the route isn't reported to be a particular object of Imperial surveillance, and I have no trouble believing that a pathway situated, as you justly put it, in a place reputed impenetrable, used maybe once more than twenty years ago by a defeated faction, remains out of both the awareness and the interest of the Empire. Sending scouts in order to make sure it is usable would be enough to dismiss the greatest danger.”

“Enough to lead us straight into disaster. Think about it, fellow members, this is perfect ambush material. How do we know the Empire isn't only waiting for us to take this route, that their supposed unawareness isn't just a façade to lure us into their trap, and will not fade as soon as we jump it?”

“While those concerns cannot be entirely dismissed, I believe they are a bit far-fetched,” Nantz answered. “The Coruscant subsector is too congested and the information from there travels too fast for them to be able to manoeuvre quickly enough to pose a real tactical threat to us. In order to successfully ambush us as we come out of hyperspace, they would have to be precisely informed of the time we plan to attack, before we even move.”

“I do not exclude that possibility either,” Leia said.

Around her, gazes were exchanged, postures uncomfortably altered, but she ignored them.

“Your Highness,” said General Dodonna. “We've already discussed this at length. Every one of us showed the greatest suspicion towards Vader's claims, they were analysed, verified, compared with the data we already possessed. We haven't allowed him any communication with the outside world, which makes his informing the Empire of our movements, were he even aware of them, near impossible. And if he had that ability despite our best efforts and wanted to betray us, which we cannot exclude given the man's power, he would have done so far before now. Never have we found any complaint to be had about the quality of his intelligence, to the extent that it is now the Empire which is falling apart under our blows, in great part thanks to his insight. However incredible it seems to me, and it is my opinion that we must remain extremely careful with him, I find it more and more difficult to reasonably doubt his sincerity.”

Leia's blood froze in her veins upon hearing Dodonna's speech.

“That is exactly what I'm afraid of,” she said in a dryer tone than she intended. “You are falling right into his trap! How can you not realise it? He is toying with us! He is putting on his best behaviour so that he may strike us at our most vulnerable hour!”

“What good would that do to him, if the Imperial army is already shred to pieces by the time he reveals himself?” said Admiral Ackbar. “When he surrendered, the Empire still had the advantage. He all but relinquished it. And he would only have done so to be able to stab us in the back? Why such an elaborate plan?”

“Besides,” intervened General Madine, “deception and subtlety have never been prominent characteristics of the man, either as a person or a strategist. While he is capable of cunningness, he has always preferred a blunter approach to things.”

“He served under _Emperor Palpatine!_ Who is to say he didn't pick up some tricks, or isn't even still acting under his orders? This is incredibly dangerous, for all we know this route is nothing but pure invention, and we will all be decimated...”

“That will be all, Your Highness,” said Mon Mothma softly.

The young woman fell quiet, a bit shameful, and forced herself to take a deep breath, closing her eyes to try and calm down. The unknown weight compressing her guts since the battle of Endor had grown even stronger, and she still didn't know where it came from, whether it was caused by her own emotions or the mysterious power Luke had told her she too possessed. The idea of using the informations issued by Vader frightened her at the deepest of her being, and today this fear was reaching a peak. Memories of an implacable voice and durasteel-cold hands flashed through her mind, relentless in their task, and she couldn't help thinking of the last time someone had placed their trust in him...

_He won't turn me over to the Emperor. I can save him, I can turn him back to the good side. I have to try._

Suddenly, noises of broken glass and surprised cries made her jump, and she abruptly reopened her eyes. Not too far away from her, General Dodonna's glass of water seemed to have exploded, its remaining pieces mixing with droplets in a weird shape. She contemplated it without a word, her eyes beating, her stomach tighter than ever.

“To come back to the discussion,” Mon Mothma said to distract their attention from the mysterious event. “What are our precise numbers of ships, fighters, and ground troops?”

Leia wasn't really listening as General Tantor rose and began to expose a detailed account of their forces. Several times, she tried to pay attention, to at least follow the discussions, but all her efforts remained in vain. All of a sudden, she had but one desire, to leave this stifling room, breathe the fresh air outside and find back the rational mind that characterised her...

Finally, after what seemed an endless time, the Commander-in-Chief rose and announced the end of the meeting. Doing her best to control her shaking, Leia gathered her notes and headed towards the door.

“Princess Leia, a moment, please,” Mon Mothma's discreet voice interrupted her.

Her face unreadable, she turned back in her direction. The president of their assembly didn't immediately speak, though, and waited until they were alone in the room before addressing Leia in a soft tone.

“Leia, I feel your worry. I know that the loss of Commander Skywalker was very hard on you, that you have trouble accepting Vader's surrender, and I completely understand. With everything you went through because of him, you have more reasons than anybody else to want him brought to justice. But I ask you to trust me. The war is coming to an end, even though we all have a hard time believing it.”

Leia nodded, curiously comforted by these words. Mon Mothma exhaled uncommon serenity, that she drank in as much as she could. She wished she had that confidence.

However, the Commander-in-Chief hadn't finished, and she carried on with a flash of apology in her eyes.

“That is why I must ask you, in the name of all of High Command, to retire temporarily from this council.”

Leia stared at her for a moment without understanding.

“Excuse me?”

“I am not doing this gladly, and this is only a request, not an order,” Mothma went on. “But I pray you to consider it seriously before refusing. You are exhausted, troubled, grieving. Clearly your decisions and your arguments have lost of their logic and objectivity since the battle of Endor. Believe me when I say I am not only envisioning the Alliance's well-being by asking you this, but yours as well.”

Briefly, Leia felt anger rise inside her. The Rebellion was a product of her work as much as everybody else's! She had done so many efforts, so many sacrifices, for them to arrive where they were, they couldn't decently dismiss her at the most crucial moment, when at last all their sweat and tears bore fruit... She greatly felt like curtly turning down Mon Mothma's request, and make her know exactly what she thought of the cruel betrayal she felt it was, even though she very well knew their leader could perfectly take more drastic measures should she refuse to comply.

But she didn't do any of that. The other part of herself, that which was made of pure and cold reason, and which had allowed her to face head on all the trials she'd endured until now, was whispering to her that the former senator wasn't completely wrong.

“Very well,” she said, her voice bland and numb.

Probably alarmed by her tone, Mon Mothma put her hand on her shoulder.

“Leia, I do not want to upset you. You know I have always had your best interests at heart. You must do what you think is right.”

Crossing her gaze, Leia was moved by the sincere concern she saw in her eyes. She forced the rest of her rancour to leave her in a weary sigh.

“No, Mon... you're right,” she made herself say, concealing her bitterness as best as she could. “I am sorry. I haven't been myself lately.”

Mon Mothma nodded.

“Take care of yourself. That is the most important thing.”

Leia assented without a word, then walked out of the room.

For a moment, she wandered through the main base's corridors, not knowing where to go, mechanically greeting those she came across, her thoughts a thousand miles from where she was. A great emptiness had settled inside her: she'd been part of High Command for so long, she had invested so much into the Alliance and its decisions, she felt as though she'd lost a part of herself. It was a weird sensation, as if she were walking on a thread, and suddenly had nothing to hold on to should she fall.

The resentment she felt against the Rebel leader rose up in her again, and this time, the rational part of her mind had a hard time making itself heard. It was so unfair, she thought, that her pain for her brother's death would serve to push her away from the project that had been her whole life for so long! Hadn't she given everything she had for the Alliance? Hadn't she always acted in the most exemplary manner, hadn't she put the organisation before everything else, to deserve to be excluded from it at the moment of victory, so offhandedly?

And at the same time, she understood Mon Mothma's reasons. These times, she had felt her mind weaken, visceral and irrational fears seize her when her head had always stayed cold before. She was no longer the sharp and brilliant woman she'd been, who could step back to reflect on any situation and judge in impartiality in any circumstances. And how she hated this new failing, what wouldn't she give to make them go away, those shadows of fear incessantly looming around her!

Whatever the agents and the interviewers said, she was certain Vader was preparing something, as she knew the knot in her stomach wouldn't disappear until she uncovered his plans. But where to begin, and where to look? She had to admit he was good at whatever game he was playing. He was leaving no trace, and she had no one to believe her, nothing to work with, except this vague certainty that took all rest away from her and pursued her at every hour.

Absent-mindedly, she unhooked the lightsabre from her belt and looked at it, turning it around in her hands as if expecting it to give her the answers she sought. She wondered what her brother had seen in him to be so certain there was still some good buried under the wires and the mask, what spell he'd been a victim of that seemed to have contaminated the whole of High Command. Were Vader's powers that strong? Or was she the one mistaken, blinded by her own feelings and unable to see what was obvious to others, and was he really on their side like Luke had wanted him to be?

But no matter how long she thought about it, she couldn't fathom such a radical change. He'd been the Empire's most feared enforcer ever since he'd become known to the galaxy, hunting, torturing and killing and stopping at nothing, silencing all voices that rose against the regime, his blade the colour of the blood of the countless Jedi he'd slaughtered for no other crime than existing. For having been on the receiving end of his interrogation methods, she knew him to be cold and merciless. He'd taken an entire city hostage to capture one prisoner, he'd risked a man's life without hesitation to test a freezing device he intended to use on his own son, whom he referred to as the Emperor's prize, and whom he'd maimed, severely traumatised and ultimately killed.

How could such a being ever change his mind so completely?

She clasped the black and iron weapon tightly. _You were wrong, Luke. You were wrong about him._

Old and sharp memories tried to resurface in her mind, but she fiercely shut them out, battling against the horrendous images conjured by her imagination at the thought of Luke's last hours. She didn't want to picture what Vader might have done to him, yet more and more often she found the thoughts rising in her head unbidden, gut-twisting mix of the knowledge she held of other Jedi's fates and her own past experiences at the Sith Lord's mercy.

She took the sabre back to its assigned place on her waist, a new determination flaring in her. She wouldn't let him do any more damage. She would expose him as a traitor if it was the last thing she did.

With purpose, she went down a story, orienting herself without trouble in the white corridors she knew well.

Her badge, despite her destitution, still held all the permissions she'd had, and she got in the archive room without any problem. She sat down in front of the computer, typed in different passwords and waited for the answer to her request, her heart beating fast. Finally, a list of videos appeared above the holoprojector; she stared at it for a moment, her breath short, her fingers less than an inch away from the projection.

She had never watched the videos of the interviews with Vader before. She had read all available reports, nearly knew them by heart from paying attention to every detail, but she'd always refrained from viewing the recordings. Even now, the perspective of seeing the black mask that haunted her nights again nearly defeated her resolve. Certainly the transcriptions were faithful enough, she would learn nothing new that way...

She quickly pulled herself together. The transcriptions held no single clue that the former right-hand man of the Emperor had anything in the back of his mind. The videos were the only way she had to detect any sign of his dishonesty... if he had left such a thing behind him. She would not give up, there was too much at stake.

With a deep breath, she touched one of the titles. As soon as she did, the room darkened slightly for better visibility, and two silhouettes appeared in the projection field, their figures bluish and transparent.

Despite herself, Leia stared at them with wide eyes, her breath quickened slightly while obscurity seemed to swoop down on her, the horrifying noise of a mechanical breath hammering on her eardrums. Her fingers burst out towards the volume button to take it down a few notches, but she stubbornly kept her eyes on the image.

She'd never let herself be intimidated before, and wouldn't begin today.

Slowly, she sat down in the chair facing the computer. She knew the words that were being said, having read them well enough in the reports, and rather paid attention to the context around them, the images and the sounds, the attitudes, the inflexions in the speech.

When Vader began to speak, she shivered, feeling sick. The memories of other times when this voice had risen, of the death and suffering it always brought with it, each crime more abject than the last, clutched her mind despite the reduced sound, still too sharp for her to be free of it. She did nothing but grind her teeth, breathe deeply, and in a childish gesture of defiance, take her seat closer to the hologram, cursing her unwanted feelings.

She examined her victimiser's figure and took in every detail of it, giving free rein to the deep revulsion growing in her before this vision. How well he played his role, she thought watching the sagging curve of the back and shoulders that the cape thrown over his chair couldn't conceal, his head down, his hands obediently set on the table, the left covering the stump of the right. The voice was dull and emotionless, a continuous flow only stopping to be revived by his interviewer, never failing to answer any question, never hesitating, submissive, offering various details and precisions. Although she couldn't see his features, Leia was certain that under the mask they must be expressing the deepest contrition.

The interpretation was far too perfect to be sincere.

The videos followed each other in front of her, interview after interview. All the secrets of the Imperial Army were unveiled before her eyes, but she didn't listen. She was watching out for the moment Vader would make a mistake, the second when, so to speak, his mask would slip and reveal for an instant his real intentions.

But the moment didn't come. Weariness began to seize her after one or two hours of the same thing. Many times, she felt an irrepressible urge to stop and admit defeat, but she never yielded, incessantly viewing the next holographic excerpt.

At last though, her eyes dry from seeing more than a fifth of the videos, she finally gave up. Nothing at all had come up from her search, and her courage was utterly spent. She was beginning to wonder whether she hadn't missed something, but the thought of starting all over again was disheartening her in advance.

Unless...

Her throat dry, her heart drumming, she went to look for a specific interview, one she'd deliberately avoided until here. She selected it, but hesitated to launch it.

This interview was one of the very first the Alliance had had with Vader, one that didn't have any specific link with what she was looking for. She had read the summaries of it, but never the complete transcriptions, for several reasons.

Everything she needed to know was in those summaries. More details weren't necessary to understand what it was all about: it was only personal discussion of his motives to join the Alliance, there was no sensitive information yet, as they had first needed to ascertain his reasons to leave the Empire. She didn't have to hear the exact words to know what lies he'd spurted to make them believe in his goodwill. And any proof she'd find in here would be discarded, since they already went over it with a fine-tooth comb, as the procedure dictated.

Besides, she dreaded too much what she would find in this recording. She already knew how far Vader was ready to go to achieve his goals, and didn't need to witness it any further. She knew it would only serve to upset her more and she didn't see the use in that.

Or maybe that was what she told herself. But this was no longer the time for irrational fears and immoderate grief. She had to go on and find proof of Vader's felony if she wanted the Alliance to finally take the threat he still represented seriously. Her own reservations only got in the way.

Perhaps, after all, this video held what she was after. Perhaps she'd be able to detect a contradiction between what he'd said there and what he'd said in later recordings, or something along those lines. It was a possibility she'd discarded for too long and for no valid reason.

She confirmed the reading order.

The two same figures emerged from the light screen. Vader's posture seemed even more weighed down, if that was possible. He was looking at his interviewer, a man with dark hair and a datapad in front of him. The officer was the first to speak.

_“Lord Vader. You declared having defected from the Galactic Empire, and wishing to collaborate with the Alliance to Restore the Republic, is it right?”_

_“Yes.”_

Vader's words were short, toneless.

_“I hope you will forgive me, but I still have to ask you a few questions, for security reasons. This is a mandatory protocol all our new recruits have to submit to, defecting Imperial soldiers in particular. Your situation is even more sensitive, considering the fact you were until now one of the Empire's most prominent figures, and that your actions stirred many passions inside our organisation.”_

Clearly the man was nervous at the idea of attracting Vader's wrath, and those words were half born from the goal of making him understand his situation, half from fear that he would just drop dead if Vader felt offended. However, the Dark Lord of the Sith merely tilted his head in acknowledgement.

_“I understand.”_

_“Thank you. We tried to research your origins to confirm what you have already told us, but it seems no single information on you exists in any database before the rise of the Empire...”_

_“My life before the Empire doesn't matter. All information about me has been destroyed for that reason.”_

Leia briefly turned her attention away from Vader to watch the interviewer throw a nervous glance at his notes as he did his best not to let his surprise show. She couldn't help admiring the man's courage. Finally, he carried on.

_“Very well. If you will allow me, since when exactly have you desired to leave the Empire?”_

Again, Vader answered immediately, his voice less expressive than a droid's.

_“Since the destruction of the second Death Star.”_

_“A recent decision, then.”_

_“Recent and sudden.”_

There was a silence as the interviewer typed in a few words in his his datapad before looking up at Vader again, who remained motionless. Personal thoughts, Leia inferred, since everything was being recorded, or merely a way to avoid looking at the Dark Lord for too long. The cyborg was ever menacing, although she could tell he was trying not to be.

_“You'd never thought about it before?”_

_“The idea hadn't even brushed my mind. I was the Empire's fist, commander, the Emperor's right hand. I wanted the Rebellion destroyed.”_

The bitterness in his tone was the most feelings Leia had heard him express until now. _Sincere words at last,_ she thought as she caught in the corner of her eye the officer shifting in his seat.

_“Then why this turnabout?”_

Vader's mask tipped down, his voice slightly softer when he spoke.

_“Because of my son.”_

Leia shuddered hearing him say it. It didn't feel right, him calling Luke that; it felt obscene and grotesque, the truth of it only making it more monstrous.

The officer, meanwhile, was staring at him in badly concealed shock.

_“You have a son?”_

_“I did. He was killed... during the attack.”_

Vader was keeping his head down, as though unable to hold the other man's gaze. Leia watched him with disgust, appalled by the way he was using the young man's death for his own designs, shamelessly betraying and trampling on the faith Luke had placed in him as though it hadn't mattered at all.

_“I am sorry. Do you think you can tell me how exactly this has led you to place yourself under the Alliance's jurisdiction, or would you rather postpone this interview?”_

_“That will not be necessary.”_

There was a short silence, as Vader seemed to consider his words. His fingers were mechanically playing with the wires coming out of his wrist.

_“My son was a Rebel officer. Until recently, I had no knowledge of his existence, I believed him dead in his mother's womb. When I learnt he had survived, I tried to find him and capture him. He was very gifted in the Force, and the Emperor wished to meet him.”_

Leia felt nauseated, hearing Vader speak so coldly of Luke, so lightly of the merciless hunt he'd subjected him to. She remembered the young Jedi, battered and hurt, deliriously raving as they tried to leave Cloud City, and those pictures compared with the carelessness the Sith Lord was displaying made her slightly dizzy. Briefly, she wondered if Vader was aware of what he had inflicted upon his son, if he used those detached accents in full knowledge of the facts.

Somehow she didn't harbour any doubts about that.

_“The Force?”_

_“Have you ever heard of the Jedi, Commander?”_

_“I have. Didn't they fall with the Republic?”_

_“They did, however my son found a way to be trained in their arts. The night before the battle of Endor, he handed himself over to me.”_

Another pause.

_“The Empire does not take kindly to Jedi... but I hoped to convince him, rally him to my cause. He didn't yield. He was... far more stubborn than I ever was.”_

The officer paled, his face bearing a horrified expression Leia was sure matched her own.

_“You don't mean –”_

Vader remained silent. Leia had trouble breathing, her throat too constricted for that. It was one thing to know he'd caused her brother's death, another to hear that half-confession from his mouth. _Monster, murderer, foul and traitorous snake, you won't win, I won't let you destroy everything I believe in..._

The interviewer struggled to regain control of the conversation.

_“To return to the subject of the Alliance –“_

_“The Empire destroyed my son. There is nothing left for me there. The Emperor died by my hand, and I will bring down the rest of it.”_

Leia leant back in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to control her beating heart and the deep unease that had taken hold of her stomach. She swallowed several times, breathed deeply, but her throat didn't relax. She no longer heard the hologram, too taken in her hatred and repulsion.

He should have died in Luke's place.

_“Thank you, Lord Vader, we will leave it at that for now. Once again, I apologise for the inconvenience. A last thing though for verification purposes, could you tell me your son's name, maybe his rank if you know it, information that would allow us to identify him?”_

_“... Luke Skywalker.”_

A sizzling noise rose, and the image flickered before shutting down with the projector. Sparks flew from the machine, circuits and wires briefly went ablaze, and an explosion inside the device cracked the screen above which the holograms had surged, smoke rising from everywhere.

Leia was petrified, hands clasping the armrests, eyes fixed on the now destroyed computer, doing her best to understand what had just happened without quite managing, without accepting what she was witnessing.

Her own breath was pounding in her ears, far too loud in the silence.


	4. Oft denk' ich, sie sind nur ausgegangen

_I often think they only went out,_  
_Soon they will be coming back home._  
_The day is fair, don't be afraid,_  
_They are just taking a longer path._

_Indeed, they only went out,_  
_And now they are coming back home._  
_Don't be afraid, the day is fair,_  
_They are just taking a walk to those heights._

_They only went out ahead of us,_  
_And will not be thinking of coming home._  
_We shall meet them on those heights_  
_In the sunlight, the day is fair on those heights._

Leia shot a last glance inside the small bag holding the bare minimum she needed, and checked she hadn't forgotten anything. Satisfied, she closed it off and slid the strap over her shoulder, ready to go. Before she went for the door, though, See Threepio, who had observed all her preparations offering his help every time he saw an occasion to do so, addressed her.

"Princess Leia, are you certain you won't be in need of my assistance during your journey?"

She smiled.

"I'm sure, Threepio."

"In that case, I wish you a wonderful voyage, and I dearly hope to see you come back to us safe and sound."

Artoo Detoo, inseparable from his golden friend, agreed in a flurry of beeps.

"I will. Take care."

She pushed the door opening button and went out of her quarters, rapidly heading towards the ships hangar. She still had five more minutes, she saw when she checked the time. Perfect.

Shortly after, she arrived in front of the round vessel she knew well. The ramp was lowered, but there was nobody in sight. She came in without an hesitation, certain she would find her two pilots inside. When she entered the cockpit, Han was installed in his seat, preparing the _Falcon_ for take-off. Upon hearing her steps, he turned his head towards her and flashed her a quick smile before looking back at his engines.

"You're just in time," he said, "just a few checks left to run and we're all ready. Strap in."

Leia looked around with some surprise.

"Where is Chewie?"

"On mission on Kashyyyk," Han answered. "He's taking the occasion to pay a visit to his family he hasn't seen for years. I hope you don't mind serving as my copilot."

Leia nodded and sat down next to Han without a word. He turned on some switches on the ship ceiling, they took off, and after a few holoradio exchanges, they were gone.

Once they were in hyperspace, she turned her seat towards him.

"Would it be possible, now, to know some more about this mysterious trip? General Rieekan didn't tell me anything, only that you had asked for my presence and that you would fill me in on all the details. I couldn't prepare anything."

"Don't worry, it's nothing troublesome," said the captain, "just a supply run. I need to pick up fuel and medical supplies on Osarian, in the Merthian sector. A liberated planet, no Imps on the way, real easy. But with Chewie away I needed a copilot."

"And despite all our excellent pilots, you specifically asked for me?"

Han looked at her intently.

"I'm letting no random pilot near this ship, sweetheart."

Slightly flattered, but feeling that there was more to it, Leia turned back towards the ink black beyond the cockpit without a word. Her thoughts were focused on the little information she possessed, which was far too thin to her taste. She liked to know the slightest details of the places she went, of the tasks she had to realise, if possible even before getting into the ship. In the present situation, she felt completely out of control, and she hated that.

"Hey," Han said, pulling her out of her daydreaming. "We still have a couple of hours. How about a game of dejarik?"

She nodded, vaguely anticipating to take back her datapads with the Alliance reports she was analysing after that, but Han defied her from game to game, so that she still hadn't done anything when they reverted into realspace. She and Han came back to their seats and began the landing, and despite the concentration she had to keep to follow the smuggler's instructions, she couldn't help being charmed by the small green and blue planet towards which they were descending.

Once they were safely on the ground, Han lowered the ramp, and they took their first breath of fresh and pure air while getting out. Discovering their surroundings, Leia couldn't help the pang that went through her heart.

It was the first time she set foot on the tops of Osarian. The flora was foreign, many flowers and trees she had never seen before, and the lake she could see down the valley was wider, clearer and bluer than any she had ever known. Nevertheless, there was something undeniably familiar about these mountains, something she couldn't place even as her gaze embraced the landscape before her. It was in the air, it was in the silence, it was in the smells and the colours of the rocks; a faint scent of memory reminding her all too painfully of a time long past on a now disintegrated planet.

Trying not to think about the many summers she'd spent at her parents' chalet in the mountains of Alderaan, that she had grown to know very well, she nearly forgot to feel uneasy when she was forced to follow Han with no idea of what he was doing, as he was leading her to the border of a nice little town, refusing to answer any of her questions before they arrived at their destination. Finally, they came to a small isolated house a bit outside the village, cosy but lovely, an unassuming building the like of which she hadn't seen for years. More and more intrigued, she accompanied Han as they acquainted themselves with their surroundings, let him make them both a cup of caf, and waited for them to be sat in the living room before asking the questions that had been burning her lips since their departure.

"How do you like the place?" asked Han as soon as they were installed, which rattled her even more. "It's a friend's."

"Han, what's happening?" she said. "I checked the whole house for bugs, we are certain no indiscreet ear can listen on us, so would you mind giving me a few more details? We left the Alliance more than ten standard hours ago, and I still haven't gotten any information on the mission, the plan, the contacts, or even my role in this whole affair."

Han smiled.

"Relax, princess, there's no rush. As I told you I was sent here to retrieve fuel and med supplies. The Empire never got any interest in this planet and anyway it was already expelled from this sector – still made sure to be warned of any unusual activity but it shouldn't happen. We've got to meet the guy at the astroport. I give him the credits, we load the stuff, and we're gone. No trouble."

"Then why not go directly to the meeting point?"

The smuggler's smile widened, which made Leia say she wouldn't like what was to follow.

"Ah, you see, our provider is a busy man. He can't obtain everything we need before a good three weeks."

Leia blinked.

"Three weeks? We're stuck here for _three weeks?_ "

"Just you and me, yeah," Han confirmed, and his smug expression told Leia he'd anticipated her reaction. For a moment, she gaped, then rose, took a few steps, before turning towards him again, searching for words.

"Three weeks here, with nothing to do," she articulated slowly. "At a critical point of our fight, when we need all the resources we can get, when the battle that will decide our fate and the most important upheaval of the last twenty years lies ahead? _Are you out of your mind?_ "

"If that's any comfort, we're still on a supply run."

Han was casually slumping in his chair, looking very pleased with himself. Leia didn't know how to react. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"You have to bring me back," she ended up saying, more pleading than angry. "I cannot stay here. I have to go back to the base, you will have more than enough time to come back for the delivery..."

"That won't be possible, Your Highness."

Those categorical words, and the conceited calm with which they had been pronounced made her hit the ceiling.

"I see. Then I will have to manage on my own," she said curtly before swirling out of the room. She furiously headed towards the entrance door, intent on taking the _Falcon_ back to the Alliance, without stopping to remember she didn't know how to pilot it alone, a vicious satisfaction growing in her at the thought that Han would have to find another way out of the system. She didn't even slow down upon hearing the calls of the smuggler who was chasing after her.

"Leia, wait! What are you doing! LEIA!"

He held her back by grasping her arm, and she turned around to push him away. A strength she didn't know she possessed forced Han to let go of her, and he was thrown back at the end of the hallway, where he nearly stumbled on the floor before regaining his footing with eyes widened in surprise. In front of that picture, she paled, every trace of anger forgotten in concern.

"Han? Are you all right?"

He didn't answer her question and merely came back towards her, completely oblivious of what had just happened.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her.

"I cannot afford to be gone for three weeks," she said, trying her best to stay calm. "The stakes are too high, there is far too much to do..."

"The Rebellion will do just fine without you for two dozens days."

"No!" she immediately replied. "I have too much work, I must help plan the attack, look at tactics and strategies, calculate our resources, coordinate the systems..."

"That's no longer your problem."

She tried to answer, but he didn't leave her the time to do so.

"Open your eyes! Why do you think you got fired from High Command? You're not in any state to go on! You're unable to function correctly, and that's not gonna change if you don't do anything about it! Perhaps if you were less stubborn and you accepted that you're human like everybody else, you'd realise that what you need right now is to relax and think a bit of yourself!"

Leia forced herself to breathe calmly. Her brain looked over everything she was burning to tell him in her outrage, but she couldn't find any biting answer, only a string of insults each more colourful than the last.

"Very well. Very well. Since it seems you've got me stuck here for good, I will at least try to do something productive during my stay."

She went past him without granting him a look, took hold of her bag, and locked herself in the room, before sitting down at the desk placed in front of the window and throwing her datapads on it a bit too strongly. She turned one of them on and began to look through the documents she'd put on it, firmly intending to forget about the disaster that had trapped her in this forsaken hole of the galaxy, and to accomplish something despite it all.

However, after a while, she had to realise that, too busy fuming about her situation, she had retained absolutely nothing from the two paragraphs she'd just read. She breathed deeply, and resumed her reading, but she was still unable to concentrate.

The magnitude of her situation crushed back on her all at once. Even though she'd taken work with her, she knew that for her to really help the Alliance she had to be there, to be able to communicate with the others. In actuality she had nothing useful to do at all. She was stranded here for the next few weeks and there was nothing she could do about it.

It had been a very long time since she'd last lost control of her emotions like that. Despite herself, her thoughts went to another trip with Han in the Falcon that had lasted longer than she cared for. The irritation she'd felt in his presence for reasons she'd refused to admit to herself as well as the fear and danger that had compressed her guts came back to her memory, too similar to what she was experiencing now.

She could only hope Vader wouldn't be at the end of the road, this time, to take Han away from her all over again.

Angry at herself for losing control with such stupid ruminations, she drove those thoughts away from her mind. This was not Bespin and Vader was far away. She took her attention back on the reports, and began to scribble down notes and calculations.

She knew Han was on his way towards the room before she even heard his steps, and wasn't surprised when he opened the door and came in.

"Leia."

The young woman didn't deign to answer him. Her anger had fallen, but she still had no intention to let him have the last word.

"Leia," he repeated. "Please listen to me."

She ignored him once more, and Han uttered an exasperated sigh. She could nearly imagine him turn back and storm out, aggravated...

Her heart suddenly missed a beat, and she couldn't hold back her gasp upon feeling his lips brush her skin right under her ear. She persisted in keeping her eyes riveted on her screen as if nothing was happening, but found herself unable to divert her mind from the light and playful kisses running in the curve of her neck.

"Han, please," she said, "I'm trying to concentrate."

"That's too bad," he whispered, his breath tingling on her skin.

Leia couldn't repress a shiver. Her breath short, her heart beating fast and strong, she closed her eyes and involuntarily tilted her head back while Han's mouth was drifting towards her collarbone. Firm but tender hands went down her arms to take a hold of hers, gently forcing her to rest the datapad on the desk.

"You are insufferable," she said, in a far less affirmative voice than she had intended.

"What are scoundrels for?"

A smile creased her face against her will, and she knew she had lost. The Alliance and their plans all but forgotten, she passed an arm behind Han's neck and pulled him towards her.

Far later, well after night had fallen and they had been asleep for hours, Leia woke up with a start, tears running down her cheeks, breathing quickly and heavily. Motionless, she stared at the ceiling without seeing it, immaterial images dancing before her eyes, too vivid for her to shake off. Then, slowly, a part of her mind became aware of her situation, and she forced herself to calm down, to silently chase off her suffocating fear and sorrow, as not to wake her companion. _It's not real. Breathe in, breathe out. It's not true. It's just a dream._

Her gaze fell on Han lying next to her, and she smiled. His relaxed figure, half visible in the dark, finished to ground her in reality, until all that remained from her former terror was a touch of cold uneasiness lingering in her stomach. Aware she wouldn't get any more sleep, she finally got up as mutely as she could, pulled on a dressing gown, and went out of the room.

She went to the balcony, and took in a long breath of fresh air. The smell of the mountain filled her nostrils and appeased her thoughts as she stood watching the wondrous landscape before her. The sun was already beginning to rise, his rose-coloured beams filtering dazzlingly from behind the tops. The valley was still partly bathed in shadows, and the pines scattered on the slope looked tiny, countless textures of browns, greys and greens in which the gaze easily lost itself, contrasting with the growing clarity of the sky in the background.

Deeply taken in her contemplation, she nearly didn't hear the soft footsteps that were coming nearer. She turned around and saw Han, his hair even more scruffy than usual from sleep, coming to join her.

"Hi, Leia," he said. "Bit early, isn't it?"

She smiled at him.

"The sunrise is beautiful. I haven't seen any like this since the last time I was home."

She trailed off, but Han didn't say anything, simply coming closer and settling next to her on the balcony, looking in the same direction she did.

"Our house was facing the mountain," she went on. "In summer, I used to go out on the terrace in the early morning to watch it... Sometimes my mother came next to me, and we would stay side by side in silence, until the sky was almost completely blue."

This was the first time she shared these details from her past. It wasn't as painful as she'd thought, with Han next to her, his hand on hers. She would have given anything to show him those mountains she had loved so dearly, and she had often wished to be able to do so with all her heart, uselessly and miserably. Now though, speaking about them, she felt grateful she still had at least these memories to treasure, and she allowed herself to revel in them, rediscovering them with childish awe and warmth in her heart.

For a moment, he didn't say a word, pondering her tale and giving her time, his eyes wandering in the landscape like hers had been a few minutes before.

"It's not the sunrise that woke you up."

He turned towards her to meet her gaze, and after holding it for a while, she looked down, her eyes falling on his thumb that was soothingly stroking the back of her hand.

"It's nothing. It's been a long time... They actually don't seem as strong, here."

"Tell me."

She sighed, but didn't say anything. She felt so peaceful here and now, the sun gently warming her skin, she didn't want to trouble the moment with her nightly terrors. They didn't seem so real, now, the images nebulous and vague in front of the splendour of the world.

"Leia," Han softly said, in a tone that made her head rise towards him. "I can't be there for you if you won't let me."

She watched him intensely, and he did the same; for once, their long exchange didn't feel like a fight. Finally, something in his face, in his eyes, in the silence, weakened her resolve. Another sigh escaped her lips, and she looked down.

"It depends," she said. "Sometimes it's impressions without any real meaning, or black, inescapable pain. Sometimes there are images too. Lifeless children on the ground, or Alderaan. There's no rule."

"And tonight?"

She breathed in deeply, the cold edge in her stomach reawakening as though it had never truly abated. Perhaps it hadn't... she had had these dreams for so long that she'd become used to it.

"Luke," she whispered. "I see him die... It's the only dream that never changes. He's screaming in pain, he's reaching out to me and begging me to help him, but I do nothing, and he always ends up breathing his last, calling for me – no, his father – I don't know."

"It's just a dream."

She looked up at him. He looked tense, but there was no pity in his gaze, only concern.

"Yes, I know. But I can't help thinking about it. He was so sure he could bring out good in Vader, that his father wouldn't hurt his own son. And yet, before he left, he told me things... that I had the Force, that I should learn to use it, that if he didn't come back I would be the Alliance's only hope... It sounded like he knew he was going to – to his death. But it doesn't make any sense. If he knew that, why did he go at all?"

Han stayed silent for a while.

"A lot of things he did never made any sense to me."

"I know. I wish I understood. I tried to hold him back..."

The smuggler didn't answer, and they stayed in their own thoughts for a while, watching as the sun ended to take its place above the tops.

"Do you wanna take a walk in the mountains?" he ended up saying, pressing her hand.

For a while, she vaguely thought she wasn't sure yet about Alsakan and Vandor 3 positions, and maybe she should ask for an update... but it was all so far away, compared to the resplendent weather and nature just in front of her eyes.

"I would like that a lot," she said.

They left as soon as they were ready, took the road until a small path forked and allowed them to go deeper into the woods. The only noises around them were the songs of the birds and the rustling of the leaves, as well as their own footsteps. Leia felt as though it had been forever since she had last walked like this, not thinking of any mission, any fight to lead nor important stakes, nothing else on her mind than the walk's pleasure and her companion next to her.

"I suppose Chewbacca is part of this little conspiracy, then?" she lightly asked as they were strolling hand in hand.

Han shortly sized her up, but she was merely curious, all traces of bitterness long gone from her tone.

"It was his idea, actually, but everything else I told you was true. I was just supposed to go with him instead of him leaving alone. I get along fine with his family."

Leia stayed silent for a moment.

"That's funny, I would never have imagined he'd left loved ones behind him... How did you two end up travelling together?"

"Circumstances. The Empire had taken him prisoner, he tried to escape, I was ordered to shoot 'im down and I refused – I was a lieutenant at the time, didn't last long. Eventually we ran away together and he swore not to leave me, because he felt he had a life debt towards me. A Wookiee's honour's not something to be trifled with."

He smiled.

"I gotta admit, I had a bit of a hard time getting used to constantly having a hairy tower under my feet, but we quickly saw we were a good team, he and I. We got out of quite a lot of tricky situations together. I know I can count on him, and he on me."

Leia thoughtfully nodded.

"An Imperial soldier... I understand why you didn't stay there for long. You were never one for discipline."

He winked at her.

"On a clever guy like me? It'd be a waste."

She made a show of rolling her eyes.

“Perhaps I should teach you some,” she said suggestively, coming closer to him and letting her fingers run up his arm. “I feel like you need it.”

He rose his eyebrows and drew her against him.

“I'd never say no to _that_ kind of discipline.”

Leia's breath caught in her throat, and she briefly wondered when they had stopped walking, before deciding it didn't matter. She closed the short distance that still remained between them, enjoying the feel of his lips on hers, of his hands on her hip and back. Eventually, she drew away with a playful smile.

“The rest of it will have to wait for the end of the trip,” she teased.

Nearly regretfully, she left his embrace and strolled forward, amused by the surprise she felt from him even as he was in her back, and knowing she wouldn't have to wait long before he caught up with her.

They hiked like this for a few hours, sometimes conversing, sometimes bantering and exchanging pikes, sometimes simply enjoying each other's presence, nature and the peaceful silence around them. Finally, after a long way up, they stopped on a small plateau to catch their breaths. After walking in the forest for several hours, the scenery had thinned out, so that they were now able to see the valley under them, as well as the huge lake covering the bottom of it. It was extraordinary, Leia thought, how tiny you could feel from a certain height, when you had miles and miles of nature at your feet and the endless sky above your head. She had all but forgotten that feeling of being so small in the universe, too taken by the task of changing it for the better. That was something war didn't allow you, and it was wonderfully refreshing and invigorating.

They sat, and Han passed an arm around her shoulders. She nestled her head in his neck with a sigh, neither feeling the need to break the comfortable silence that had settled between them. The landscape was incredibly similar to the one she'd once called home, and it would have been easy to lose herself in the contemplation of everything she had lost, if not for Han's presence around her, his steady breath and warmth grounding and sheltering her. Slowly, deliberately, she allowed grief to take its place inside her, still devastating but also tamer, more bearable, because she knew she was not alone. The stubborn man at her side had made sure of that, and perhaps it was all that mattered, despite all the losses, all the heartbreak.

As if he could sense the turn her thoughts had taken, he bent over her and softly kissed her ear.

“Now's a good time for the end of the trip, don't you think?” he whispered.

She laughed and snuggled deeper against him, and he held her tighter, supporting and comforting.

When they came back to the house, the sun was already beginning to set. Exhausted, but her mind at peace, Leia set about rummaging through the kitchen with Han to find them something to eat and drink, thirsty and famished by their break. She finally found some dry biscuits she'd already tasted on other planets, and a tray of fruit she rapidly discovered as being very juicy, that she began to squeeze.  
As she was sitting down on a chair, her glass in her hand, she couldn't help noticing the juice's bright blue shade, the azure reflections dancing in the liquid.

A moment later, it appeared Han had had the same thought.

"Luke would have liked that thing," he said. "He had a weird fascination for drinks and food that colour."

Leia nodded, the shadow of a smile on her lips.

"I never knew why," she whispered.

Han thought for a while, rolling his glass in his fingers and taking a sip from it.

"Bantha milk is blue," he remembered. "It's the most common drink on Tatooine, cheaper than water. Never liked the stuff. Must have reminded him of home."

She took the information in, revelling in that small detail that brought her closer to him. She remembered the drink from their short time on the desert planet, but she'd never made the connection with Luke's appreciation of all blue things to consume. She thought of the many times he'd dismissively told her how much of a parched rock his world was, yet as she recalled how he was there, staring at the scorching heat of a two-sunned sky and standing in the dryness of all-encompassing sand, she knew without a doubt that he had known it as well as one only knows their home.

After a short silence, she looked up, and found Han's gaze on her with a strange expression.

“What is it?” she asked.

Han looked at her some more, then looked away.

“Nothing.”

He did his best to look carefree, but she could tell it was just a façade, and that whatever was bothering him ran deeper than he wanted to admit. She put a hand on his arm.

“Please, tell me.”

His head snapped towards her, and he seemed irritated all of a sudden.

“Luke,” he all but snarled. “He was more than a brother to you, wasn't he?”

She frowned, taken aback by the unexpected question.

“What?” she said, utterly confused.

He opened his mouth, but closed it just as soon and sighed.

“Never mind.”

He fell silent then, but he might as well have screamed. Leia's heart was beating slightly faster, and a cold twist contorted her stomach. Was he really implying what she thought he was...?

“Han...”

“I said forget it,” he said, and rose from his seat.

“You can't just drop this on me and tell me to forget it,” Leia retorted, rising as well. “What, exactly, are you talking about?”

“Like hell you don't know!” Han exploded, and Leia couldn't help but make a step backwards. “Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but I wasn't blind for so long. I saw the way he looked at you, how you talked to him, all the glances and the smiles you thought so subtle, and don't think of telling me nothing happened between you on Endor!”

Leia forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to control the trembling of her hands. The knot in her guts had contorted even more, she felt as if she had swallowed lead. How could Han even think that? How could he doubt her love for him, when he had sneaked his way into her heart, and was such an integral part of it?

“It's not at all what you think,” she said. “I told you...”

“Yeah, you did,” he cut her off. “Will you look me in the eye and tell me you never felt anything for him?”

She wanted to do just that, to stare straight into Han's pupils and tell him she had never loved anyone but him. But the words died on her lips before she could say them. She remembered how much she had needed Luke in these terrible months after Bespin, him and his bottomless compassion, the patient tenderness bursting from him even through his own pain. She recalled the comfort of his arms around her, of his breath on her ear as he whispered to her that they would bring Han back and everything would be all right, and suddenly she wasn't so sure anymore of what exactly these feelings had been, in the middle of their common grief. She looked away.

“That's what I thought.”

A wave of anger seized her, and she had to bit her lip not to scream. He had no idea – he didn't understand anything at all.

“Your jealousy is completely misplaced,” she said, her voice tight. “If you feel like raving like a spice-high Gungan, at least leave me out of your hare-brained ideas!”

“Of course, it's always about my intellect, Her Great Worshipfulness is way too respectable to admit to a mere scoundrel that she –"

"Luke was my _brother!_ " she finally shouted. "And he's _dead!_ What more do you want, are you so afraid he's going to be your rival from beyond the grave? Well don't worry, that's not going to happen. He's gone, Vader slaughtered him and he's not coming back!"

As low a blow as it was, at least it got Han to fall silent; but it didn't stop the guilt from hitting her as she realised what she had just said. She looked away from him, unable to bear the sight of his pained face, and took long and deep breaths, forcing herself to relax her tight fists. He had no idea how hurtful his accusations were. She couldn't hold it against him to think these things, not when her own emotions were such a mingled and confused mess. And yet nothing had ever happened between her and Luke, no matter how unsure she was of what had passed between them back then. She so desperately wanted to make him understand, to tell him that he was no second choice, that it was him, had always been him. But she had no idea how to express it, and worse, how to make him believe it.

"Leia, I'm sorry."

Han's tone was quiet and subdued, and she felt a great weariness overcome her. She was just so tired of the pain, of the burning loss she never seemed to get rid of. She tried to smile at him, but wasn't sure she really managed.

"You don't know," she weakly said, forcing the words through her constricted throat. "You don't know how it was, when you were gone. Luke had lost his hand, I had lost you... We were both wrecks. He was the only thing still holding me together, when I was despairing from ever seeing you again."

She difficultly swallowed. Han didn't say a word.

"I love you. I love you so much. These months without you... I would have gone crazy if he hadn't been there. We didn't know we were related. He told me right before he left, and it felt so right, and at the same time... it's – it's just so unfair that as soon as I get you back, I have to lose him instead."

Han came closer, and tentatively put a hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry, Leia," he repeated. "I didn't mean to... kriff, this is such a mess. He really left us high and dry, huh?"

This time, she managed to smile at him, if only wanly, bitterly.

"That he did."

Han was stroking her arm, and she did her best to keep her attention on his fingers running on her skin, not on the memories of Luke, not on the softness of his hand leaving hers in the forest night, nor the ghost of his lips on her cheek, as he left her alone with the burden of their heritage... 

"Hold me", she whispered, like back then.

He did, and she buried her face into his embrace, breathing his scent in and clinging to his shirt as his fingers ran through her hair, reassuring herself he was really there with her, not about to leave her like so many others had. After a while, he softly spoke into her ear.

"Tell me how it was, when I was gone," he said. "All of it."

She only hesitated a fraction of a second before she began to speak, depicting the excruciating months of despondent loneliness, the dark anxiety that had never left her alone, her witnessing Luke's suffering without even knowing where it came from, her hopes shattering again and again with each attempt Chewie and Lando made to rescue him, the words flowing from her mouth like purging poison.

Three weeks passed by like this. The young princess, little used to taking time for herself, first had much difficulty to sit back, but Han's constant attentions finally got the better of her reluctance. He used all the tricks he knew to force Leia to relax. He took her to the hot sources that made the planet's wealth, showed her the lakes, walked in the mountains at length with her. He challenged her in card and drinking games at nights, made her laugh, provoked her, comforted her, so that at every moment she felt surprised and drowned under so much affection. Little by little, she opened to him, described him her homeworld and made him see all the similarities she found with it in this planet, talked of all the doubts and uncertainties caused by Luke's revelations, of the disgust and the shame she felt knowing of Vader's relationship to her. They still argued as often as they had before, but both were beginning to know their limits and their quarrels hardly ever had their former violence.

Finally, the end of their stay approached, and Leia, to her astonishment, realised she didn't want to go. She still wanted to fight for the Rebellion, and felt as though she could take down the Empire's remnants on her own, but she would miss the serenity of these moments alone with Han.

"Where again did you say our provider would meet us?"

"At the astroport. Everything's settled, we give him the credits, we load everything and we're gone."

Leia nodded without a word. She'd hardly ever been on such an easy operation; she hoped it was a sign that the war was truly reaching an end.

They headed for the astroport, far cleaner and rustic that anything they were used to, which wasn't so surprising considering the town's profile. Their supplier, a plump man with dirty blond hair and an affable air about him who thought they were working for an humanitarian association, took them to the hangar where the goods were stocked; they paid and thanked him without contradicting him, before taking everything in the _Falcon_. The crates proved to be numerous and heavy, and the nice warmth they had enjoyed during the last weeks didn't work in their favour. They spent a good two hours at it in a conniving atmosphere. As they worked, Leia couldn't help noticing the glances Han threw her seeing her carry big packages without a word. Finally, when everything was in the cargo bay, she ended up sitting on a crate with relief, and looked around her.

"We've got everything, I think," she said.

Han didn't answer, too busy watching the few damp strands of hair escaping her braid, her lips from where came out a slightly too short breath, the rolled up sleeves of her shirt that unveiled the entirety of her forearms. Hoping the slight heat on her cheeks was from the effort and not her self-consciousness, she flashed him a grin that seemed to capture the smuggler's complete attention.

"Enjoying the view?" she teased him.

If anything, the sound of her voice seemed to increase his distraction.

"Leia, marry me," he brusquely said.

It took Leia completely by surprise, her eyes widening.

"What?"

Han came closer. He sat down next to her, then took one of her hands and began rubbing it, like he'd done another day on the _Falcon_ , so long ago, but that both of them still perfectly remembered. Like then, she was unable to take her eyes away from him, breathless.

"Leia, will you –"

"Of course," she interrupted him with a wide and brilliant smile. "Of course."

He didn't wait for her to say anything else and kissed her.

Luckily, Threepio wasn't there this time to break the moment, but they eventually still had to break apart and think of taking off. As they joyfully prepared the jump to hyperspace, Han didn't have to repeat many of the instructions he'd given Leia on their journey there: she had retained nearly every single one of them.

Once they'd gotten past lightspeed, though, and had nothing to do than wait to be arrived, she found her thoughts darkening again, barely tainting the lasting joy she felt since Han's proposal. A black shadow was looming at the corner of her mind, threatening, and after working through so much of her grief, she felt disappointed at the visceral fear still clutching her stomach at the prospect of having to deal with Vader and his actions again. For a short moment, she dreaded coming back to find the Alliance fleet in sheds, but she quickly stifled the idea.

Fortunately, Han ended up breaking her gloomy musings.

"How are your nightmares?" he asked. "You still look tired."

She turned to him with a small smile.

"It's nothing," she said. "I'm fine."

Han frowned, studying her closely.

"Come on, don't give me that. What is it? You still afraid Vader destroyed the Rebellion in your absence?"

Leia winced. It was uncanny, sometimes, how well Han could read her mind without even having the Force.

"I told you it was nothing," she said in the lightest tone she could.

She could tell he wasn't fooled, though. He was still looking at her in that intent way of his, trying to figure her out – or perhaps reading her better than even she knew herself.

"You've got to do something about it, you know," he finally said.

"And what?" she retorted, bitterness in her words. "I've tried everything I could. There's nothing I can do. He's here to stay, for better or for worse."

Han hesitated for a second before answering.

"I think you've got to face him."

"Certainly not," was her immediate reply. "I'm not going to let myself be tricked by his lies the way Luke and the whole Alliance have been, and if you're taking his side too –"

"I'm not talking about asking him for advice," he fired back. "I'm saying you've got to get free of the power he still has over you. You've got to stare down his pathetic mask, see that he can't do anything to you anymore, give him a good punch for me and stop him once and for all from making your life hell."

Leia shook her head.

"This is unnecessary. He has no place in my life."

"Could have fooled me. You're terrified of him."

Either the provocative way Han had said it or the words themselves angered her to no end.

"I am not – I am afraid of what he plans to do, yes, but I am most definitely not _terrified_ of that – that –"

"Of the man that tortured you and had your brother killed?" the smuggler cut her off. "Right after you've learnt he's your father on top of everything? Who do you think is gonna fall for that?"

Her blood ran cold.

"Don't. Just don't." The words flew from her mouth in spite of her, her voice as hard as steel.

Her hands were trembling in shock, anger, hatred. He was not her father. Her father had been a loving and dedicated person, not a blood-thirsty machine. She inhaled slowly, deeply, trying to soothe the pit of cold darkness in the base of her guts and to silence the appalling questions that plagued her mind. Had he inflicted on Luke what he had on her? Had black leather held him down as he screamed, his body racked with agony, as his mind's last defences were restlessly assaulted? Had Vader called him _son_ or _Jedi_ while striking him down?

Han's hand setting on hers brought her fully back to reality.

"You're gonna have to let yourself heal, at one point or another."

She breathed deeply, forcing her drumming heart into a more normal rhythm.

“How do you do it?” she asked him, her voice cracking, desperately needing to change the subject.

“Do what?”

“Be so... unaffected. By everything.”

Han looked at her, puzzled.

“You mean Vader? I'm just as confused as you, sweetheart. I've got no idea what he has on his mind, but I'm gonna go with it till the day it goes sour, and then –“

“No... Luke,” she hastily said, wanting to get the conversation away from Vader. “I've been out of sorts ever since it happened, but you're just going on as if nothing had changed, and... I was wondering.”

Han thought a moment before replying.

“You think I wasn't shaken when he died?” he said, his voice half an octave lower. “I go out of my way to save his butt every single time he lands himself in trouble, and he, as soon as I begin to have the impression he can hold his own, he walks out on me to get himself – blown up –“

He let a loud breath out.

“Thing is, that's the way it is, people die and you can't do anything about it. Even when it's hard, even when it's –“

“Brutal?” Leia supplied. “Cruel? Merciless? His own _father_...“

She trailed off.

“Yeah,” Han sombrely said. “All of that.”

The atmosphere in the ship was morose after that, both of them taken in darker musings that they would like. The absence of their friend was making itself more felt than it had been in months. Finally, it was Leia who broke the silence, putting her hand on Han's.

“About that wedding,” she said with a smile, trying to lift their spirits. “Do you already know where you want to have it?”

He grinned at her.

“I've got a few ideas.”


	5. In diesem Wetter

_In this weather, in this storm,_  
_I would never have sent the children out._  
_They have been carried off,_  
_I couldn't say anything!_

_In this weather, in this gale,_  
_I would never have let the children out._  
_I feared they sickened._  
_Now these thoughts are useless._

_In this weather, in this storm,_  
_I would never have let the children out,_  
_I worried they died the next day._  
_Now anxiety is pointless._

_In this weather, in this storm,_  
_I would never have sent the children out._  
_Off they have been carried,_  
_I couldn't say anything!_

_In this weather, in this gale, in this storm,_  
_They rest as they would in their mother's house:_  
_Frightened by no tempest,_  
_Sheltered by the Hand of God._

Some time later, after an eventful day, they had gathered inside the _Falcon_ in a corner of a hangar, and had eaten a meal made by Chewbacca to celebrate their engagement, delicious despite a few hairs. Han and Leia had refrained from arguing the whole dinner, and the evening had unfolded in a tranquil and joyful atmosphere, talking and joking lightly.

However, once the leftovers had been packed and the dishes put in the sink, as they were sitting over a cup of kaffe for Leia, a glass of Corellian whiskey for Han, and nothing for Chewbacca who didn't like to drink after he ate, the conversation turned more loaded, as they began discussing the current state of the Alliance, the Empire, the Galaxy, and Leia.

“We've taken back Coruscant, but our work is far from over,” she said. “There are still many remnants of the Empire who haven't forsaken the fight, we have to organise elections and a new government... Much remains to be done.”

“And in the middle of this commotion, you can't even take an hour to go and confront His asthmatic Lordship?”

Chewbacca softly growled his agreement, and Leia sighed.

“No. No, I can't. Han, I don't think you understand the situation very well...”

“Oh, I understand it better than you want me to. You just don't have the guts to face him.”

She stared at him as he nonchalantly leant against the back of his seat with a cocky expression, in a way he knew to annoy her particularly.

“I don't have the guts?”

“Nope.”

Before she could do anything else than glare at him, he went on.

“Look, Leia, I know you need it and you know it too. You won't be able to put behind everything he's done to you if you don't go to him and see with your own eyes he can do nothing more to you. You're the one in power now.”

Chewbacca carried on with his own opinion, put less bluntly than Han but not really different.

“Your concern touches me, but it is unnecessary,” she replied. “What he's done to all of us is in the past. I have neither the time nor the will to go behold his hypocritical mask...”

“Because you're still afraid,” Han cut her off.

_“I am not afraid!”_

“Will you prove it?”

For a moment they just glared at each other. Annoyed by their stubbornness, Chewie lifted his arms to the ceiling grumbling and moved away from them.

“Ten creds you won't face him before next year,” eventually offered Han in deliberate provocation.

“And the promise to leave me alone on the subject?” countered Leia.

“Yeah.”

She weighed the proposition for a while, then took her decision.

“You're on. Prepare your chips, flyboy, and the Falcon. We're leaving tomorrow.”

Unlike what she'd said to Han, with her no longer having any official role in the Alliance, it hardly took any time to clear her next afternoon from any obligation, and soon Han and her were taking off for the Alliance base of Hitaka, where Vader was located. This small outpost had been recently installed on the Outer Rim Planet, in an ancient fort strategically situated. The neighbouring plantation of exotic trees, long grown back to wilderness, gave the place even more secrecy and isolation.

She made her way alone in the old anvilstone corridors, having left Han with the Falcon in the main hangar, where he'd struck conversation with a deck officer. As much a comfort as his presence was, she didn't want him to see her like that, with trembling hands and unsteady breath, as she vainly tried to prepare herself to face her worse enemy.

Finally, she arrived in front of the former Sith Lord's quarters. The sliding door was easily recognisable, with its two guards stationed before it. However, contrarily to appearances, they were not there to prevent the room's inhabitant from exiting it. Vader's position in the Alliance was extremely sensitive: the most hated foe of the Rebels, his countless crimes were each more cruel than the next, but the goodwill he'd never ceased to demonstrate since his surrender, added to the accuracy of the intelligence he provided, was beginning to make the people in charge of his situation uncomfortable with treating him like a mere war prisoner. They had thus settled on a compromise, this marginal base where he was free to wander as he wished, and some sentinels charged with his security, a precaution all knew to be unnecessary, as well as watching his every movement.

However reports stated all these measures had until now remained useless. Vader rarely left the rooms that had been assigned to him, and he was seldom seen outside.

Leia breathed deeply. This was it. She was extremely tempted to let Han have his ten credits and leave this place quicker than she'd come to it. She was utterly terrified, there was no other word for the blank panic that clouded her senses at the idea of reliving all her nightmares. She couldn't do this, she should just forget him and move on. This was just a way to twist the knife in the wound...

She stopped these thoughts as soon as they entered her mind. She would never be able to forget everything he had done to her, and his shadow had been looming on each of her waking and sleeping hours, especially since Endor. It was time to put an end to it. If to do so she had to face him again, then so be it. She wouldn't allow herself to be afraid of him any longer.

With grim determination, she introduced herself to the guards who let her through, then she pushed the button of the holocom.

When the door opened, she felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart stop before starting again in a frenetic rhythm.

The Dark Lord was exactly the same as in her memories. Tall and imposing, twice as broad as her, his mere presence towered on the whole corridor, and the supernaturally accented horror of his breath rumbled against her eardrums. The unmoving and expressionless look of his empty sockets, in the middle of the angles and hard straight lines of his face, seemed at once to see everything and linger on nothing, and his entire stance, otherwise unreadable, released an aura of pain, of death, of destruction and despair.

Never before had Leia felt anything so frightening as the impression she had now, looking into this abyss of absolute nothingness, and having it look back at her.

“Princess Leia Organa,” he said blankly.

She shivered, and was unable to answer, her mouth dry. This deep voice sounded as come right from the deepest hells, and she struggled not to let herself be overcome by old sensations. In front of her lack of reaction, he moved aside the threshold.

“Come in.”

At last able to take back control of herself, she repressed a movement of panic at the idea of being alone with him in a room, and forced herself to move forward, extremely conscious of his presence behind her. His quarters were furnished with the bare minimum, a table, a few chairs, a bed, and a great amount of what seemed to be medical instruments, that turned Leia's blood to ice. As soon as she could, she turned towards him, taking great care to place herself between the door and him.

For a long while, they gauged, studied, measured each other. None of them knew very well what to make of the other's presence, and the silence stretched out uncomfortably. Eventually Vader spoke first.

“I am surprised to see you here.”

 _And you are right to be,_ thought Leia, who was seriously beginning to wonder what she was doing.

“I have a few questions to ask you, personally,” she said.

Vader shortly hesitated, during a few seconds that felt like an eternity to the young woman. They were alone, and however many times her mind told him he wouldn't hurt her, that it would ruin all the efforts he'd made until now to make the Rebellion trust him, she couldn't help feeling these hands grip her arms to restrain her, this relentless voice ask her questions she didn't want to answer. Here, in his own quarters, she was completely at his mercy, and she knew that if he decided to harm her, she would be unable to resist him.

“I have no objection,” he eventually said.

He shortly fell quiet, then spoke again, as an afterthought.

“Please sit down.”

“No, thank you,” Leia immediately retorted, “I would rather stand.”

She shuddered unwillingly. Sitting, she would be more vulnerable, less able to defend herself or to flee.

“As you wish.”

Leia stared at the black mask. Vader's breath buzzed in her ears like a tolling bell, she couldn't think, couldn't remember the questions she'd carefully crafted during the trip here to coerce him into revealing his real intentions.

“What are you preparing, Vader?” she let escape before she could hold it back.

“What do you mean?” he answered.

Leia bit her lip, angry with herself for letting her anxiety get the better of herself and slipping up like this. Faced with Vader, all her political talents flew away from her; against him she was a warrior, not a negotiator. Now it was too late to take her words back.

“You know very well what I mean,” she bravely went on. “You may have succeeded in deceiving the entirety of the Rebellion, but I see clearly through your games. This is all a trap, you are trying to gain our trust to better undo us afterwards, and I must admit you are well on your way to achieve that. But do not think for one second that I am being fooled. I will not let you, I will fight body and soul against my own colleagues if I have to, but I will not let you destroy everything I have tried to build until now. Mark my words.”

She fell silent and watched the Sith Lord. It was said. Despite the danger in which this declaration had doubtlessly placed her, she felt strangely liberated. She waited to feel a growing pressure against her neck or see Vader's hand rise to strike her, to break her neck for uncovering him. But he never moved, his back straight, his hand holding his wrist behind his back, his head slightly tilted, nothing in his posture betraying his thoughts.

“So that is what you think.”

“Will you deny what I say is true?”

“If I thought I had the slightest chance to change your opinion.”

Leia couldn't believe her ears.

“You are right to assume you don't,” she said, affronted. “I should have known you would say that. I do not know what Luke saw in you to succumb so easily to your treachery...”

“Your Highness, this conversation will lead us nowhere,” retorted Vader. “If I cannot convince you of my intentions, I am not any more capable to make up imaginary schemes to please you. I already explained the reasons for my new allegiance, and I will not wait for your personal approbation to make things right by my family...”

Leia cut him off.

 _“Do not call Luke your family!_ He was never connected to you by anything but blood!”

“He was my son in every way that matters!” Vader snarled, his fist closing in indignation.

 _“No!”_ Leia shouted, trembling with rage. “You have no right! Not after everything you did to him!”

She broke off, her anger so potent words failed her. Before her, Vader became stiff like a statue again, which only kindled her fury.

“You didn't only kill him,” she spat, vicious pleasure sweeping on her when she saw his shoulders sag ever so slightly at her words. “You _destroyed_ him. He never was the same after Bespin. I saw him close off day after day, clouds of uncertainty and doubt creep into his eyes when before he'd taken errors like failures with a laugh. I felt helpless, watching the enthusiastic boy I cared about be devoured from the inside by torments I knew nothing of. But now, I understand. I heard him speak so many times of his father, the great Jedi Anakin Skywalker, to whose memory he was completely devoted. I cannot imagine the horror he must have been through, to find himself persecuted and maimed by the very father he so admired!”

“I never wished for any of that to happen,” Vader said, sounding annoyed. “If Obi-Wan hadn't taken him from me...”

“Was it General Kenobi who chased him ruthlessly for years? Was it he who cut off his hand, captured him, murdered him?”

“I will not answer any of this!” the Sith thundered from all his height, with a violence that had Leia take a few steps backs in spite of herself. “If all you have come to do is weigh me down with reproaches, you are losing your time. I see your Rebellion is just as double-faced as the Republic was, if this is what you call justice, temperance and diplomacy!”

Leia swallowed, unable to answer, staring at the raging figure standing before her. She took one more step back, unable to think of anything else than his clenched fists, the fury rolling off in waves from his entire being. She remembered these brutal accents, this fierce and mortal voice all too well; she was reminded of the humiliation and the pain that had fallen on her when she had resisted them like it was yesterday, unable to avoid it, unable to fight it, the droid's buzzing, the seconds strung out by a mockery of a too strong and regular breathing...

She did the first thing that came through her mind. She turned on her heels and fled from the room as quickly as she could.

She was wandering mindlessly in the hallways, not knowing where she was going, paying attention to nothing but putting the most distance between herself and Vader, when she nearly walked right into Han.

“Hey, hey, Leia,” he said, grasping her arms. “Calm down. It's me, it's just me, you're safe, you hear?”

She closed her eyes and did her best to catch her breath, to calm her frantic heart and relax her muscles. Han's hands, rubbing her arms up and down, were holding her gently but firmly in reality, and only as she was half composed again that she realised she'd nearly had a panic attack.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing... I... lost control. Nothing to be worried about.”

Now that she was calmer, she felt irritated at her lack of self-command, annoyed with the concerned way the smuggler was looking at her. What a failure, she thought as she reflected back on the exchange she'd just had with Vader.

She hadn't obtained any of the answers she sought. If anything, the whole fiasco had only brought her more questions. Why hadn't Vader reacted more strongly to the words she'd thrown at him? She should be dead at his hand. For a man whose reputation was to choke to death every officer that riled him, and that did even worse to any rebel who crossed his path, he had for sure shown a lot of restraint. Why such a show of composure? It made no sense at all.

No, of the two, it was Leia who had let her emotions take control of her. Not something of which she was proud, and while she really didn't want to put a foot back in there, she itched to set things right.

Leia Organa wasn't ruled by fear.

“Sorry,” said Han. “I guess it was a bad idea after all. Come now, we take the _Falcon_ and we get back, alright? I think I still have a bottle of Corellian whiskey somewhere for you.”

“No,” protested Leia. “I have to go back.”

She couldn't help but think of Vader's slight movement when she'd talked of Luke, of the way she'd seen her words reach him and been glad they did. She had wanted him to suffer like she had suffered at his hands, and that wasn't right. She didn't like it. The world didn't need any more hurt.

And it intrigued her. Could Vader know of pain, other than that which he inflicted?

“What? No way, Princess,” the smuggler answered, looking at her as though she was crazy. “You've won, okay? You've done enough, I don't want you to break down because of some stupid gambling about a murderous dickhead.”

“It has nothing to do with the bet,” she retorted. “I still have a few things to settle with him. I just lost my temper.”

He looked at her incredulously.

“Lost your temper? You were in shock not a minute ago!”

She sighed, and looked straight into his eyes.

“Listen, Han. I need to do this. I promise I won't break down. I know what to expect now.”

Han studied her carefully, clearly doubting her words, but he must have known there was no arguing with her, because he sighed and relented.

“Okay. But I'm coming with you.”

They went back on their steps to the corridor of Vader's quarters, when Leia stopped, and kissed Han on the cheek.

“I can manage from here. It's something I've got to do on my own.”

“Are you certain?” he asked. “I'm not sure that –“

“Trust me. Please.”

He looked at her for a while, then relented with a crooked grin, putting his hands up in a show of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I'll be waiting here.”

She gave him a smile in thanks, and headed surely towards the former Sith Lord's door, looking far more confident than she felt.

This time Vader was a bit longer to answer, it seemed, or was it the knot in the pit of her stomach that made it feel so? Anyway, she felt both a strange relief and a kind of trepidation when she saw the black mask appear once more.

“You came back,” he simply said.

She nodded, and he gestured for her to come in. Feeling Han's eyes set keenly on her, she didn't show any hesitation before crossing the threshold, intent on spending the least possible time in here.

She still couldn't accept his invitation to sit down. It came as a surprise as he settled down on a chair, their positions a chilling mirror to the ones they'd occupied on the Death Star years ago. It was appropriate, Leia thought blankly. Words were turning in her mind, as she wondered what to say, without knowing how to express herself, but curiously Vader didn't seem to want to press her. He just watched her with a patience she didn't know he possessed.

Finally, she settled on something neutral.

“I came to apologise for what I said,” she said with a clarity and a consistency close to a miracle. “It wasn't my place.”

He calmly nodded, and she caught herself wondering where was the ruthless creature she'd known last time she had found herself alone with him. It would have been easier to deal with; this was too unnerving for her taste.

“You do not have to apologise,” he simply said.

Leia repressed a potent rush of anger and indignation. Was that all he had to say? After everything he'd done?

Vader looked up at her.

“I can feel your anger,” he said, his voice toneless. “It will not help you.”

She closed her fists. He had no right to give her advice, no right to pretend wanting to help her when all her hurt came from him in the first place.

“I did not come to talk about feelings,” she all but spat at him. “I want answers. I want to know why you turned yourself in, and why you chose to do it only now.”

She breathed in deeply, then out, trying to chase away the feeling of dizziness that was taking hold of her head. It was still too fresh, their situation too close, and it was a fight of all instants for her not to be overwhelmed. Vader tilted his head down in acknowledgement. He was still watching her closely, and this unsettled her more than everything else. She wanted him to react, anything but this stilted passivity that could conceal far too many things.

“I already explained everything regarding my defection to the Alliance.”

“And I want to hear it from you.”

“What I said was the truth, and if you didn't believe it then, I do not think you will believe it now.”

“So I should accept your using Luke as the reason for your change of heart, knowing you were his death?” she snapped. “How deluded do you think I am?”

He stood then, coming in front of her, his tall figure towering upon her, but she stared at him without flinching. _This_ she could take, this she understood and knew how to react to, even with her guts as contorted as they were, her mouth as dry.

“I do not wish to discuss him.”

Before she could answer, he went past her towards the window, staring at the landscape outside, his back at her.

“You look much like your mother.”

She froze, feeling like her heart was dropping five inches in her chest.

_He knew._

Suddenly, she felt an irresistible urge to flee from this stifling room, to put the greatest distance possible between her and him, or even better, to point a blaster to his head and send him into oblivion, anything so that she could put him behind her and never see him again.

Oh, how heavy her brother's lightsabre felt on her hip, when her greatest wish was to run it through the man in front of her...

“How _dare_ you speak of my mother,” she hissed, “when your infernal station killed her at the same time as my father.”

He turned towards her so quickly his cape flew in the movement.

“ _Organa_ was not your father,” he viciously said. “I...”

“Don't say one more word,” she cut him off ominously.

She couldn't bear to hear him say it; she didn't know what she would do if he did. Fortunately, Vader fell silent, his respirator's regular breath the only sound in the room.

“Luke told me you were once a Jedi,” she said, trying a different approach. Anything was welcome, if it meant she could avoid the subject she couldn't bear to talk about. “Is it true?”

“In a time long past,” he said.

“So you turned against them.”

That, at least, wasn't so surprising.

“You who so dearly wish to bring back the Republic, you have no idea what its last years were like,” retorted Vader, now sounding really irritated. “The Senate was weak and corrupted, and so were the Jedi.”

“Certainly not to the point of justifying murdering them all,” she replied. “The Purge was a monstrosity.”

“It was needed,” was his laconic answer.

Her first instinct was to cry out in indignation, but she could find no words to express the extent of her outrage. Nothing warranted a slaughter of this scale, and that he could so casually dismiss it filled her with a rage she couldn't convey.

“Why did you join the Alliance?” she said slowly instead, growing irritated of his constant eluding.

“These were dark times, ravaged by war and endless treachery,” he said, and she knew he was replying to her feelings rather than to her words, which infuriated her even more. “Sacrifices had to be made. I wanted to achieve peace. I wanted – to save _her_.”

She meant to repeat her previous question, to tell him to stop messing with her thoughts, but something in his words took her in.

“Save whom?” she asked.

“The most brilliant woman,” he answered, and if she didn't know any better, she would have believed she heard a speck of hesitation there, carefully guarded feelings. “Her courage and compassion would have moved mountains. It is a shame you didn't know her.” A pause. “She was... devoted to democracy, as you are.”

Ancient memories overcame Leia – _She was very beautiful... Kind, but sad_ –, and she was stunned to hear these words come out of his mouth.

“You loved her,” she breathed before she could help it, astonished.

Vader didn't answer, but she didn't need any verbal confirmation. It was unthinkable, Darth Vader, heartless and cruel monster as he was, being able to love; and yet, even though he said nothing, it was there, in these nostalgic memories, in this silence filled with more emotion than she could tell.

“What happened?”

“The Emperor was my friend, before I pledged myself to his teachings,” he said, and the cold fury in his tone made her shiver. “He told me he had the power to save her, that together we could unravel the mysteries of life and death. He took everything from me.”

Her head spinning, the young woman took a chair and sat down. That was too much information, she couldn't make any sense of it. How could such passion turn into the cold machine that had murdered thousands and slaughtered the entirety of his kind, finishing with his own flesh and blood? She couldn't fathom it, she was unable to understand any of it, and she sensed there were still missing pieces in the story, but she doubted there was still a soul alive that could have answered her questions.

It didn't matter, she told herself. What he did was unforgivable. The reasons for it didn't matter, and if he expected pity from her, he would be disappointed.

But somehow, his complete honesty – and the fact she _knew_ , without a doubt, that he had told her nothing but his version of the truth, troubled her. He was confiding an obviously painful past to her, of all people. That was the most disturbing thing. She didn't want any of it, didn't want to be the guardian of Darth Vader's secrets...

Yet she had been the one to ask, hadn't she?

“I don't understand,” she ended up saying, more coldly than she wanted. “Why spread terror in the galaxy for twenty years and commit all the heinous acts you did for a man who had betrayed you, for an order in which you didn't truly believe?”

“You don't know the power of the dark side,” he answered, and she had the impression he had said these words often. “He was the only thing I had left. What else could I do?”

“What else could you do?” she repeated. “You could fight! You could refuse his tyranny, bring him down and try to restore justice in the galaxy!”

In her indignation, she had stood up, and taken a step towards him.

“I did kill him, and I am collaborating with your little guerilla of terrorists now, am I not?”

“Don't ask me. I still don't trust you. If you are telling the truth, then why did you wait so long before turning against him?”

Vader looked down.

“He was my master,” he reluctantly said. “I couldn't. I didn't have the power –”

“But you vanquished him in the end,” she cut him off.

“Not alone.”

It was as close to a whisper as he could, and she could feel pain and remorse coming in waves from him. She frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I already told you and your Rebellion more than you needed to know,” he snapped, his finger pointed at her. “I will not betray you. What more do you want?”

“The truth,” she retorted, relentless. “What made you defeat the Emperor? Why did you surrender to us afterwards?”

“It is in the past,” he said drily, his patience shortening. “It is useless to dwell on it.”

“Lord Vader,” she pressed. “Anakin Skywalker. Please, I need to know. I need to understand.”

He didn't answer, but he tilted his mask down, and Leia knew she was close. She took one more step towards him, looking straight at him.

“Please.”

Her words, no louder than a breath, were muffled by the room's muted atmosphere, and there was another silence as he planted his gaze into hers. She said nothing more, and didn't flinch, afraid the slightest movement would cause him to close off and refuse to tell her anything more. She felt as if she was walking on a thread, the smallest misstep able to make her fall.

Vader finally moved, away from her, looking through the window, but somehow she had the impression his eyes were set much farther than the outside of the building. Then his shoulders fell, and she could nearly feel him give in. He looked down.

“The night before the battle of Endor, Skywalker handed himself over to me,” the deep voice began to rumble, slowly, as though he had to force the words out of his mouth. “But unlike our previous encounter, he no longer harboured any aggressive feelings towards me. He was certain there was still good in me, these were his own words, as foolish as they sound. That night, he tried to convince me to leave everything behind to go with him. He repeated to me that he would never turn, that I would be forced to kill him... I didn't listen. I brought him on the Death Star.”

There was a pause. Leia said nothing, hanging to his lips, waiting and fearing for the rest of the tale.

“I took him to my master, as I had been ordered to. Together, we tried to drive him to hate and despair to lure him to the dark side of the Force. Sidious explained to him the trap he had laid for the Rebellion, he mocked and taunted his struggles to stay calm. Skywalker bravely resisted. He refused to fight me, holding on to the growing conflict he could feel raging inside me. But all of his strength didn't suffice to protect him from our combined efforts. When I threatened... when I threatened his friends, he threw himself at me with such vicious power it astounded me. He effortlessly beat me, cut off my hand as I had his own.”

Leia couldn't help glancing at his severed electronic wrist, out of which still came damaged wires. A strange weight had settled in the pit of her stomach, an uneasiness she couldn't explain.

“I thought it was the end. I thought he would kill me and kneel to my master as I did so many years ago. But when the Emperor ordered him to accomplish this, he refused. He faced him, proclaiming he was a Jedi and would never turn to the dark side; then he turned off his weapon and cast it away from him.”

A gasp escaped her lips, and she brought her hands to her mouth with a step back, horrified. Vader looked at her.

“Yes,” he said, dropping his head again. “I had never seen Sidious so enraged. He... he attacked him, savagely. Luke didn't stand a chance...”

The young woman was staring at him, nauseous. Images of blue screeching fire were dancing before her eyes, cries of pain resounding in her ears, and she understood better than she had ever wanted to the dreams that had been tormenting her nights for months.

Vader's tale stopped for a moment, then started again, his words clipped and strained.

“He... fell down, screaming – calling to me – and I did nothing... I stood there, I watched him be – slowly – before my very eyes... I finally mustered the strength to move, seized Luke's lightsabre and killed my master. But it was too late... I've always been too late...

There was a long and painful silence, and Leia was certain that had Vader been able to breathe on his own, it would have been erratic and tedious. Her own feelings were raging in her chest, appalled as she was by her brother's horrible end, angry at Vader's abandoning him, sorrowful at the renewed thought of having lost him forever, so much that she didn't know which of them was taking precedence.

He was telling the truth, he was not deceiving them. She couldn't deny it any longer. But as she reached this reassuring conclusion, she also discovered she would have preferred by far if he was.

Especially the new understanding that Luke had willingly braved death, that he'd given his life to save that of the father who had wronged him so deeply, was harrowing. It was so much like him that it was nearly physically painful. She wanted to scream in despair, to give everything she had to bring him back; but still she knew, and that was the worst of it, that he wouldn't have chosen any other way to go.

All of that for the broken man in front of her, his fist tightly closed, fighting his dark and distressing thoughts.

A well of hatred surged inside her, as the injustice of it hit her in full force. Luke had left her behind, she who had been nothing but caring and devoted to him, to bring back a man that had made hell out of both of their lives and many more. And that man had done nothing to deserve it, he'd left him to die as he stood watching, just like he'd watched Alderaan be destroyed and Han be frozen in carbonite, unfeeling, uncaring, unworthy of the endless love his son had placed in him.

At the same time, she remembered with profound sadness the way Luke's eyes had lighted up every time he spoke of his Jedi father, of the constant questions he would ask any Clone Wars veteran, his insatiable curiosity for everything pertaining to him. She recalled the reverent way he'd held the silvery lightsaber, the only thing he possessed of his parent, and heard again the certainty he'd held in his voice that fateful night, that hope she hadn't understood.

_I know I can bring him back to the good side._

She bit her lower lip, her throat tightening threateningly.

The former Sith Lord hadn't moved at all since the end of his confession, his shoulders hunched, staring absently in front of him, the perfect picture of wretchedness. Leia's temper flared, seeing him like that, so distinctly wallowing in his misery.

_He did it for you and you're damn not going to let it go to waste._

“So what now?” she said, her voice cold and hard.

Vader's head shot up, turning to her, and despite not being able to see his face, she knew he was confused.

“What do you mean?”

She looked at him, a fire of righteous anger burning inside her. Her brother's words were turning in her mind, impossible to stop, impossible to put in order. _You've always been strong. If I don't make it back, you'll be the only hope for the Alliance._

“Surely you don't mean to drown yourself in your misfortune as a way to honour his memory.”

“And what do you propose that I do?” he answered, bewildered and wary, more than a bit irritated at her boldness.

“Don't let his death be in vain.”

For a moment, the recklessness of her idea hit her right in the face, but if anything, it only made her more driven. She wondered if this was how Luke had felt when he had hurled his weapon away, this mix of fear and resolve, this awareness of standing at the brink of destiny.

_You have that power too, and in time you'll learn to use it as I have._

She unclipped Luke's lightsaber from her belt.

“Teach me the Force,” she said, holding the weapon out to him. “Help me become a Jedi, like my brother, and his father before him.”

He didn't move, but she could feel the whole extent of his stupefaction. He reached a tentative hand to touch it, and she had to use all of her willpower not to flinch, but she didn't retract it.

“I will do anything I can,” he said.

She nodded, and as he looked up at her, the gaze they exchanged reached Leia to the depths of her soul despite the mask he wore, its comforting burn whispering feverish assurances. She did her best to convey the steel of her own determination. This was not an absolution. It was a challenge.

Finally, when the intensity of the moment became unbearable, Leia took back the lightsaber, her fingers trembling as she set it at her waist. After a last glance to Vader and a nod in his direction, she went out, not once looking back.

Of course Han was waiting for her at the exit, looking anxious. She went straight to kiss him, burying herself in his arms.

“It took more time than I expected. You alright?”

She smiled weakly at him, suddenly overcome by a wave of weariness.

“Yes... I think so,” she answered, stepping back. “I need some fresh air, I'll see you later.”

He kissed her forehead in reassurance, then let her go. Leia went to the base's exit, searching for a calm and solitude she wouldn't find with her fellows Rebels.

After leaving the building, she went further among the huge alien trees. Night had fallen, and she did her best to immerse herself in the lethargic tranquillity of the place as she aimlessly wandered around. She tried to calm down, to straighten her thoughts, to put some order in the storm that was her mind at the moment.

She no longer knew what to think. Her certainties had fallen to pieces, and a frightening void had taken the place of her swirling emotions. She felt lost and broken, without knowing where to go from there, and that distressed her more than anything else.

She had no idea what she should think of Vader's revelations. Neither did she know what she should do about the promise she'd torn from him on a whim. Surely she couldn't be a Jedi, she didn't have the capacity for that... She was a senator, a politician. She didn't have the time to add to that the exertion of training in the Force. The mere thought of learning from Vader, even though she no longer could doubt he was truly repentant, made her shudder. Yet, if she didn't, wouldn't that amount to throwing away Luke's efforts, heritage, and much of what he'd fought for?

A wave of powerless anger washed over her at the thought of her late brother. Why did he have to make things so difficult? Why couldn't he kill Vader and the Emperor, rather than sacrifice himself so senselessly, and leave her behind with a burden she didn't want to bear? For the first time in her life, she hated Luke's goodness, wished he had been anything but this naïve boy, able to see the best in anyone... in this merciless galaxy, it was no wonder that the best part of who he was had been his undoing.

Overwhelmed, she let out a hoarse cry, closing her eyes as she let herself slide down a tree to the ground.

She thought she'd really lost her mind when she heard a voice utter her name. Certain it was but a product of her imagination, she ignored it, but to no avail.

“Leia,” said the voice, a bit louder.

At the third call, she lifted her head up, and gasped. Right in front of her, less than ten feet away, stood an ethereal figure, bluish and softly glowing, whose traits she would have recognised anywhere.

“Luke,” she breathed, incredulous.

She looked down, unable to stand the image of the young Jedi's smile, his sincere and gentle attitude, more careless than she had seen him in years. If it was a hallucination, her mind was far crueller than she had thought. To see him again like that, to rediscover every detail of his face she had nearly forgotten, while knowing he wasn't real, was unbearable.

“Yes, Leia, it's me,” the apparition said, as if he'd read her thoughts. “It's really me, I swear.”

“How is it possible?” she asked in a voice she couldn't stop from trembling. “You're dead.”

“I know... I've tried to reach you before, but I haven't managed until now. It's not an easy skill.”

She reluctantly raised her eyes. He was still there, bearing a sheepish expression that broke her heart. He was wearing the same clothes as when she first met him, she noticed. For some reason, she was glad not to see him in black.

“I can't do it, Luke,” she said. “I'm no Jedi.”

He was still smiling, and this vision captured Leia's gaze. She tried to memorise every single one of his quirks, the smallest of his movements, so that she would at least have these memories when he left for good.

“You must follow your own path, whatever it is. But you have that potential. Even if you don't choose to become a Jedi, the Force will always be with you.”

“Not like you,” she retorted. “You shouldn't have gone. You should never have handed yourself over to Vader. I wish I could have held you back.”

He shook his head, his eyes as piercing as they had been, something infinitely tender in them.

“I had to go. Vader knew I was there, he would have found us. And I couldn't flee from my father forever. I had to confront him, try to bring him back.”

“Well you succeeded, congratulations!” she exclaimed, suddenly furious at him. “I hope your afterlife is well spent basking in your good actions, knowing you so _selflessly_ let yourself be killed! Now _we_ have to deal with it all and let me tell you, it would have been better if he was dead!

Luke bit his lip and looked down.

“I'm sorry, Leia. I never meant to abandon you like this.”

The dejection in his voice calmed her down a little. All of a sudden, she realised with a shock this might be very well be the last time she saw him; these moments were too precious to be spent being mad at him.

“Did you even think of the consequences?” she whispered.

His head shot up, and the intensity of his gaze caught her breath in her throat.

“The only thing on my mind was you,” he said.

She averted his eyes, her lips a thin line.

“Leia,” he insisted. “I am sorry. I mean it. Believe me, if I could come back, I'd do it in an instant. But you're gonna get through it. You've got so much to hope for: Han, the Alliance, a whole world to rebuild... We've won, we've really won, can you believe it? Soon you'll be bringing back the Senate, organise elections! I promise I'll support you, when you give voting rights to ghosts.”

A wavering bout of laughter escaped her at his terrible joke, even worse than those he used to do, as she was assailed by a flow of old memories and emotions, her throat so constricted it was painful.

“I miss you so much,” she whispered.

They stayed face to face in silence, their eyes telling each other what they couldn't express. All this time, Leia had had so many things to say to him, questions to ask, confessions to make, but now that she unexpectedly had the possibility to do so, she found that words were failing her. Somehow, she knew her brother was feeling the same way.

“You will have to go, won't you?” she finally asked.

She already knew the answer, but wished for nothing more than to hear him deny it.

“I will always be with you,” he said, shattering all her hopes. “In the Force. From a certain point of view, I'll never leave you.”

He had a mischievous smile when he said that, which made Leia feel like the witness of a joke she didn't understand. As he was speaking, he began to blur, becoming more and more transparent.

“Don't leave,” she begged him.

“Never,” he said, a mere breath of air against her ear.

The moment after, he was gone.

For a moment, Leia's gaze stayed stuck on the place where her brother had been, tears silently rolling down her cheeks, without knowing whether it had been an illusion, or she'd really spoken to him. A dull ache was throbbing in her chest, heart-rending and strangely comforting at the same time. She felt empty, more exhausted than she had ever been.

Slowly, she rose up, and began to walk back to the rebel base, disconnected from the world. She barely noticed the trees around her, mere shadows in the night's darkness, far from the brightness Luke had projected around him. The silence was deafening, and the sound of her steps, muffled by the dead leaves at her feet, seemed precise and loud in the complete quietness.

Like in a dream, she found herself back into the hangar, deserted at this hour, except for the few soldiers on duty who let her in without a word. The noise of her boots was resounding between the ships, as though coming from somewhere else than her feet. A part of her mind was lingering on everything she saw, rediscovering the place as if it was the first time she came here, from the colour of the walls to the floor's texture or the places and shapes of the engines. All the while, another piece of herself seemed stuck on another plane of existence, far from all earthly matters, forever separated from the rest of the universe.

Finally, she came in front of the _Falcon _'s familiar form, and stopped. That ship had been part of her life for so long, she had never taken the time to observe it really, not since the first time she'd seen it; even then, she had only glanced at it long enough to send a pike to her captain about her miserable state. With a suddenness that completely took her aback, she remembered Luke running in the Death Star hallways without any idea of what he was doing, of Han and his declarations he followed no orders but his own, of the rage this self-importance had awakened in her. She remembered that youth and that innocence, that had helped her avoid the still fresh and constant thoughts of Alderaan blowing up in the sky, and with these memories came those of all the people she had lost. The vessel, she realised as she was staring at her, unable to stop the tears from flowing on her face, was one of the few constants in her wrecked life.__

__She couldn't have said how much time had passed when a pair of strong arms embraced her, to which she clung with all the strength she could muster._ _

__It would take time to cope with all that had happened, but at least Han was there for her, holding her and uncaring of the fact that her tears were drenching his shirt. She had never truly appreciated this miracle, this curious irony, that of all the people who had surrounded her, it was the one that she had most feared to lose who was still at her side, after everything._ _

__“Thank you,” she said in a strangled, raw voice._ _

__He didn't answer, but held her a bit tighter against him._ _

__Slowly, she began to wonder about the future, what it held in store for them. She thought of all the planets that would soon be freed from Imperial rule, of the victory that would be the first new galactic elections. She imagined young humans and aliens playing together in the streets, their parents looking at them, their minds unburdened by the worries of war. And she pictured her own wedding with Han, saw the radiant smile of their own children, building their lives in a peaceful and liberated world. For the first time, these images she had so often fantasised about seemed possible._ _

__As the feeling grew in her, she caught herself thinking that she had forgotten how sweet a feeling hope could be._ _

__Nestled against Han, she closed her eyes, her lips stretching out in a savoury smile._ _


End file.
